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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476458">Lost and Found</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne'>Gwynne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lost and Found [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:47:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>100,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>High crimes, evil plots, and devious villains. Justice, guilt and innocence, honour torn in opposite ways. And the consequences of taking advice from Miles.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lost and Found [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. If any one of them tells me that I can always have more children, I. Will. Kill. Him.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They’re on the Greenline track, heading towards the centre of the city.”</p><p>Laisa kept her eyes fixed on the screens. One of them showed the floatbus inching through traffic. The other was a feed from the internal security vid on the bus, showing the passengers. </p><p>There they were. Three seats from the front, a young woman and three children.</p><p>Laisa’s children. </p><p>She knew her grip on Gregor’s arm would leave bruises tomorrow. She didn’t care. That tight hold on him was all that was stopping her from screaming. </p><p>Her children. Seven days, seven interminable days, she’d lived in hell while ImpSec quietly tore the city apart, desperate to find the missing children. They’d issued the usual cover story about terrorists – which might even be true – to explain the increased activity,  but said nothing about the children. </p><p>On the first day – nothing. No message, no ransom demands, no sign, no trail to follow. The children went out with their nurserymaid to visit their Vorkosigan cousins for a playdate, and what their hired experts called ‘Planned socialisation’. Laisa wasn’t sure that time spent with the Vorkosigans would be all that useful in training their children to fit in with the rest of society, but on the other hand it would give them strategies to cope with … well… just about anything. </p><p>Kidnapping? Could her three tiny babies cope with kidnapping? She always knew they’d face problems just by being Vorbarra, but she always thought that would happen later, when they were grown and trained, after years of practice.</p><p>Xav was only five. Dolen was three. And Karina – that beautiful, perfect baby who waved starfish hands and smiled so innocently – she was barely six months old. </p><p>And if Laisa lost them – don’t. Don’t think about it. </p><p>First day they were on their way home from Vorkosigan House, with their nurserymaid, two armsmen and an ImpSec squad that had gone to collect them and escort them home. All the right security passes, all the right passwords, identity checks, everything.</p><p>And then, thirty minutes after they’d left, an ImpSec squad turned up at Vorkosigan House to collect the children.</p><p>And Laisa knew what it meant for your heart to freeze. </p><p>The investigation was savage and desperate. Miles wasn’t crazed, or wild – he was ice-cold and focussed with absolute intensity. Within hours they knew that the floatcar had been a perfect copy of the official one. An ImpSec clerk had died in a traffic mishap the previous evening – and his bank account had deposits from a recently-opened account in the name of a prole who had died three years ago – a dead end. The clerk had access to all of the daily codes and passwords, and to the timetables of the security squads. They tracked his input codes – he’d altered the pickup time for the Imperial children by thirty minutes. It was his last act at work the previous day; he was taking some annual leave and was heading for the shuttleport, and the liner that would have jumped him past Komarr and on the way to Jackson’s Whole before anyone started looking for him. Apparently whoever paid him didn’t like loose ends.</p><p>Second day the bodies of the two armsmen were found dumped in an alley in the Caravanserai; well away from any street vids. Getting rid of more loose ends. Throats cut, no energy weapon discharges to trace. Surgical precision. Laisa watched as Gregor turned to stone, then to steel, as the news came through. She knew him well enough to see the boiling rage behind the ice. </p><p>Laisa didn’t have his hard shell. She felt as if her skin had been flayed, as if every nerve ending was shrieking. She held onto Gregor, and just tried to breathe. </p><p>Third day they found the nurserymaid, in another alley on the other side of the city. Again, well away from any street cameras. She’d been bludgeoned; not the high level of precision the kidnappers had shown so far. A mistake, maybe?</p><p>Who was caring for her babies now? </p><p>Fourth day – nothing. No bodies, no demands. Just the agony of silence.</p><p>Fifth day – a notice in the morning newsfeed. The commercial feed that everyone watched while they had their breakfast, or read in the floatbus on the way to work. A message in the personals: “Greg, your three missing parcels are safe. Will contact you with details for retrieval.”</p><p>No way to trace the message, it was sent from a newly-bought vidcom, no way to trace it, no way… no trace…more dead ends. </p><p>Miles was planting vidcams everywhere he could think of that might pick up their next message, or body-dump. Checking baby-food purchases, vidcam buyers, house rentals, floatcar sales, anything. </p><p>Sixth day – Another message, “Greg, delivery of your parcels will be expedited after the big vote passes. Contact you in two days. Hope it goes well. The parcels aren’t damaged so far.”</p><p>Big vote? The vote… the only ‘big’ vote coming up in two days was in the Council of Counts. It was a vote about opening up the Empire to more trade with Jackson’s Whole; there was some pressure to abolish various restrictions on certain genetic manipulations, to allow the ownership of genetically-modified life forms, to let businesses trade in these laboratory-originated life forms. It all sounded harmless and sensible – the campaigners had stressed the way Barrayar would take a brave leap forward to Nexus-standard science and commerce. The word ‘slavery’ was never mentioned. </p><p>Big money on Jackson’s Whole, some of the greediest and most ruthless Houses, wanted to get a slice of Barrayar, now that the Empire was wealthy enough to be worth their while. They’d been trying to move in for some time; small crimes, pushing the boundaries, diplomatic pressure, buying off impecunious Vor, especially High Vor – second sons or penniless heirs – to build contacts in the Capital. The trade vote had been pushed into the Lower Council by a consortium of bought-and-paid-for minor business operators and political lackeys. But the security concerns allowed the LC to flip it onto the Council of Counts. Let the big boys take the heat, that’s what they were for. </p><p>Laisa looked around at this morning’s emergency meeting: An Emperor, the Head of ImpSec, the Prime Minister, four Auditors… and no answers. </p><p>“This has Jacksonian style all over it,” Miles fumed as he paced across the room, then trudged back to slump into a chair at the long table. “Jacksonian planning, Jacksonian money – but some home-grown knowledge too. I’m guessing Vor – a younger son, or a Count or Count’s Heir who needs the money, it’s Vorbataille all over again. We’re checking them as fast as we can, but… sixty families, it’s taking time.”</p><p>Allegre nodded miserably, “We have every researcher on this, everyone we can pull in. We’re crunching bank accounts, checking finances, looking over every hint of Jacksonian contact with Barrayarans, Vor or prole. But…”  </p><p>But it wouldn’t be done before the vote. </p><p>No ransom payment, nothing that could be tracked. A public vote. They couldn’t delay it, change it, refuse to do it. Pass the vote or lose the children – these people were ruthless, there’d be no second chance. </p><p>If the Vorbarra vote was Yes, enough Counts would fall in line or abstain and it would go through. Especially with a little Imperial hinting beforehand. </p><p>And Laisa knew that Gregor wouldn’t, couldn’t, throw the vote. She knew he was against the bill, a majority of the Counts were, it wasn’t going to pass. </p><p>Prime Minister Racozy stirred, “We could... make a delay. An explosion in the Great Square? Komarran terrorists – we couldn’t be blamed for that.”</p><p>Lord Auditor Vorkalloner frowned, “Maybe… maybe if we issued a press release stating that the Emperor had been injured…?”</p><p>Miles shook his head, “Even if they believed it, it’s just a delay, at best.”  </p><p>And the longer her babies were held captive, with nobody who cared for them, the longer they were in danger. Suffering, afraid… agony of mind to think about it. Or the kidnappers could cut their losses and go. Cut… no, don’t think about that either.</p><p>Laisa looked at the room full of worried, useless men. </p><p>Gregor’s wristcom beeped. They couldn’t hear the message, but it was like watching a man come back to life, “They’ve found them. On security vid – on a floatbus.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Get Away From My Children, You Bitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Apologies for the language in the title. It's an echo of a quote, and it carries the right emotions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Laisa watched the vid screen. Her babies. She wanted them, every fibre of her being screamed to go and get them RIGHT NOW. She hated every man in the room, even Gregor – especially Gregor – for waiting so calmly. She watched the woman – the kidnapper – steady the children as the floatbus braked suddenly.</p>
<p>Gregor’s hand closed over hers. She could feel that he was trembling, so slightly, with the effort of control. </p>
<p>No, she couldn’t hate Gregor. Or the Empire, or Barrayar. But the kidnappers; she understood Cordelia now, she knew how you could slice someone’s head from his shoulders for putting your baby in danger. She’d point a plasma arc at each and every kidnapper, and laugh as they burned. Without hesitation. </p>
<p>Laisa had never felt Barrayaran, not really. She was Komarran, she was in love with her husband, she loved the romance and glamour of Barrayar. She was a good Empress, she was raising her children, and running several finance committees, and dealing with diplomats. But she was always Laisa, Komarran Laisa, always a foreigner in this place. </p>
<p>Right now she understood the Bloody Centuries. Right now she knew why you’d fight, kill, die for your family. Right now she wanted blood. Laisa was Barrayaran to her core in this moment; she understood Vor, she understood the whole system. </p>
<p>Gregor gave her one of his see-right-through-you looks, nodded slightly, and turned back to the screen.</p>
<p>“Not much longer,” Miles was muttering, “We just need to see where they’re going… we may be able to pick up more of them…it’s fine, ImpSec is close by…”</p>
<p>They watched as the traffic jam suddenly cleared, and the floatbus surged forward. Stopping, moving, stopping again.</p>
<p>“It’s heading for… the Great Square.”  Miles and Allegre were both muttering orders into their wristcoms. </p>
<p>The woman – the kidnapper – held Karina against her, her other arm scooping both boys close to her. Dolen leaned against her – he always liked to snuggle. Xav was looking out the windows, pointing to a woman walking two small dogs, laughing as he urged Dolen and the woman – the kidnapper – to look. </p>
<p>They were alive. They seemed healthy, and unhurt. They were almost free. </p>
<p>But they weren’t in her arms. Until they were she couldn’t breathe, her heart wasn’t beating, she was still frozen. </p>
<p>Last stop before the Great Square the woman surged to her feet, gathered the boys and led them onto the pavement. Then she started down a side lane, then another, working around the Square towards…</p>
<p>“The Residence. She’s heading for the Residence.”  Miles was practically crawling through the screen. Allegre muttered something and rushed out, calling orders into his wristcom as he went. The Prime Minister and the other Auditors hovered in the back of the security room; not part of the action, but they weren’t going to leave until this was over. </p>
<p>They watched as the woman led the children – Laisa’s children – to the end of the alley, where it opened to the Great Square, one block from the corner of the Residence. The guard had already been doubled everywhere, but on a few of the other screens she could see more guards drifting out to each port and gateway, along the front of the Residence. Small, casual knots of men sauntered across the courtyard that stretched from the front of the building to the decorative iron fence, reinforced of course by various less-visible screens and defences. </p>
<p>The little group stopped before they were out in the Square. The woman knelt down, pulling the children towards her. Everyone in the Security Room froze. </p>
<p>Not a bomb, dear God not a bomb.</p>
<p>Gently she leaned down and kissed Karina on the forehead, then settled her into Xav’s arms. She hugged him, and then embraced Dolen – the boy reached up to hug her tightly. They watched as she made sure that Xav’s arms were holding Karina firmly, then hooked Dolen’s hand around Xav’s arm. A few whispered words – instructions or encouragement – and then she gently set the children walking, out into the Square, toward the main gate of the Residence. </p>
<p>“She’s… she’s sending them back.” Miles had dropped his tension just a notch or two. “Why isn’t she… is she one of them…?” </p>
<p>Laisa watched the tiny group walk carefully towards the gate. Xav, so serious, being so brave, looking after the little ones. Dolen looking around, enjoying this odd excursion. Karina seemed quiet, but one determined hand was waving in the air. </p>
<p>As they watched the gate guards broke forward, scooping up the children and hurrying them inside. Laisa turned and ran – all that mattered was getting her children into her arms.</p>
<p>Gregor followed, for once letting the others manage the fallout. </p>
<p>Doctors, nannies, nurserymaids, ImpSec hovering trying to ask questions, and all Laisa wanted was to lock them all out of the room, leaving her family alone. Finally they were back in the nursery, the children were washed, changed, (“Their clothes could have useful evidence on them….”) and in her arms. Gregor had stayed for as long as he could, getting reports regularly. </p>
<p>She stayed there all night, and most of the next day. It wasn’t until late afternoon, when all the children were napping, that she settled into Gregor’s office to hear the latest news. Apart from some residual bloodlust she didn’t care much what had happened. Presumably Miles and ImpSec had done something useful, at last. </p>
<p>“We have them all.”  Gregor was a different person from the cold man who’d walked numbly through the last week. “It was as we thought, a Jacksonian plan to force the Trade Bill through the Council. They’ve been working on this for over a year, they started before the Bill was even suggested. Recruiting, suborning, bribing, drugging, collecting information any way they could. The Jacksonian agent in charge – Perron - found a Vor lordling who needed money, and kept lending him funds to get him so deeply in debt that they basically owned him. Collected information – a tiny piece at a time, never enough from any one person to set off any alarms. Perron seduced one of the nurserymaids – she juggled the schedule so that she was the one who went to Vorkosigan House.”</p>
<p>“But why did they kill her?” </p>
<p>“After Perron killed the armsmen,” Gregor flinched, he was grieving for those men and always would, “She realised how dangerous the plotters were. She’d been fed a vague story that the armsmen would be drugged until it was all over, but she glimpsed what happened. Then she started to ask about the children – how they’d be returned. IF they’d be returned. Perron doesn’t like loose ends – she pushed a little too much and he hit her a bit too hard. She fell, hit her head, and…”</p>
<p>Laisa frowned, it was hard to feel too much sympathy for the woman who’d helped to put her children in danger. “But who was the other girl?”</p>
<p>“Perron’s tame Vor was young Lord Vortaxis. He’s heir to his Grandfather – Dimitry’s parents were killed in a lightflyer accident years ago. His older brothers too. He and his younger sister were the only survivors.”</p>
<p>“So the girl…”</p>
<p>“Anastasia.  She works at the Arts Academy here in Vorbarr Sultana. When the nurserymaid was killed they needed a woman to care for the children. Vortaxis called his sister, said he needed her help – didn’t tell her why, of course. She went to help him, thinking it was the usual – drink, drugs, gambling and general misery. Once she was inside she was their prisoner. And she wouldn’t leave the children.”</p>
<p>“Where were they all this time?”</p>
<p>“Vortaxis House, here in the Capital. It’s hunting season, so the Count is in his District entertaining hunting parties even though he’s too old now to do much hunting himself. He uses it for political gatherings, grooming useful contacts – he’s a stalwart of the Conservatives. His grandson had the House to himself. Perron staffed it with his own people, of course. But Anastasia grew up in that house, she knew every secret passage and bolt hole, places that Dimitry had forgotten about. Eventually she was able to get the children out.”</p>
<p>“So she wasn’t one of them? Why didn’t she come in with the children?”</p>
<p>Gregor frowned, “She went back for her brother. She wanted to persuade him to give himself up, confess, redeem his honour, anything he could. And if he wouldn’t do that, to help him escape off-world. This is High Treason, planning to kill all the Imperial children, there’s no escape from that, but she thought he could save his Name and his honour.”</p>
<p>“Did he?”</p>
<p>“He and Perron had beaten her to the floor and they were both kicking her unconscious when ImpSec hit the building.”</p>
<p>Laisa shuddered. She’d hated every one of those kidnappers. She wanted to stamp each one to a bloody pulp. Burn them to a crisp with a plasma arc. Tear them to shreds with a needler. </p>
<p>But… that girl saved her children.</p>
<p>“Is she… did she survive?”</p>
<p>“She survived the attack, she’s bruised, a few broken bones, nothing they can’t fix. Not that it matters, sadly. They’re all marked for execution – it was High Treason.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Open the Bloody Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Again, apologies for the language in the chapter title. It's appropriate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Laisa was pacing across the room. She laughed grimly for a moment, and looked over at the Lord Auditor, “I’m channelling you. You’re a bad influence.”</p><p>Miles gave a twisted grin, “I’m honoured to be any kind of influence, my lady.  Laisa.”</p><p>“This is all your fault, you know. You organised my introduction to Gregor. Without you… none of this would have happened.”</p><p>Miles gave one of his chin-jerks, apparently unsure whether to laugh, or take her seriously. “Barrayar’s gain.”</p><p>“Maybe. Except that I don’t get to do much. I’ve resisted doing too many flower-show appearances, but I spend way too much time looking pretty in the background at official events. A few finance committees are as much as I’ve done so far, and they’re not high-profile. Everyone thinks I’m just a baby-creator.”</p><p>This wasn’t completely true, and they both knew it. But Laisa needed to get angry about something, she needed the strength it would give. </p><p>They kept pacing, anything to avoid listening to the feed from the Chamber. Count Vortaxis was speaking… and speaking. But eventually he’d stop and she’d hear Gregor pronouncing the sentences. Two death sentences. Didn’t they realise how hard this was for him? </p><p>Miles took a turn at pacing, “There must be more to Empressing.”</p><p>Anything to distract her, distract them both. </p><p>“I reproduced. As far as I can tell from the official histories, that’s about as much as an Empress has to do.”</p><p>“Maybe you should read some of the unofficial histories.”  At Laisa’s impatient grimace, Miles went on, “Each Empress… the histories, the official ones, would record all of her great good deeds, and of course the list of her offspring. If she sprung any. But from what I remember of the old family stories Piotr used to tell around the campfire… some of the Empresses in the past weren’t exactly committee material.”</p><p>They criss-crossed the room, trying to avoid collision. How long was this Council meeting going to last? And at the end of it… death sentences.  Poor Gregor, having to sit through this. Miles was lucky that Aral was on planet now, and took his place for this meeting to give Gregor his support. It meant that Miles was free to support Laisa. Mixed blessings.</p><p>Miles whittered on, trying to distract both of them, “Empress Mathilde, now she was a terror. Anyone who insulted her was exiled from her District – which meant from the capital. And their whole family with them. It kept the numbers down in the CoC, which helped certain votes get through – a sneaky method of political control. She said that it was her right as Empress to maintain courtesy at the Imperial court. And they certainly did learn to be far more polite and civilised, or to vote her way. Empress Lydmylla, she was a woman of strong character – she levied special taxes on the High Vor, and used the money to set up orphanages and workhouses for children and girls who had no family, said that was an Empress’s role. Found jobs for them when they were trained and ready. And any man who took advantage of them… she had some very inventive punishments. Make your eyes water just hearing about them.”</p><p>Walk. Turn. Walk. </p><p>“Empress Olga Kristina, she demanded that each District provided care for every mother and baby. She’d do official visits, just to check. She said that girls and women were her responsibility, and she was a terror to any District that didn’t follow her instructions.  And Empress Anna Natalie, she’d march into any room, any meeting, if she wanted something. Her husband used to hide from her if he was having an important meeting, to try to avoid interruptions. If she wanted something, she wanted it NOW. She said that it was one of the rights of an Empress.”</p><p>“So where is it? This list of Empressorial rights?”</p><p>“Nowhere. The list was whatever they said it was, as far as I could tell.”</p><p>They both spun around when the door opened, but it was just an armsman coming to see if he could get them some more coffee… tea…. snacks… anything? The armsmen were almost clingy right now, sticking close to the Imperial family as they all grieved the loss of two good men. </p><p>How much longer would it take?</p><p>Miles kept on with his endless list of Empresses and their amazing and somethings horrendous deeds. Charity, murder, scandals, theft, seduction, protection, courage, greed, love… Empresses in the past seemed to do whatever they wanted. Laisa wondered if they’d ever paced a small room. </p><p>Gregor sat on the most uncomfortable seat in the Empire, wondering how long this misery would continue. Perron, his Jacksonian cronies and his Barrayaran accomplices had already been sentenced – that was one of the advantages of FastPenta, it gave full, truthful and speedy testimonies. Most trials were simply concerned with the sentencing, and in this case there was no choice. High Treason, death sentence. Firing squad for all of them. They were lucky – Perron’s testimony included the fact that the children were never going to be released alive. Their tiny bodies would be scattered around the city, a distraction for ImpSec while the conspirators covered their tracks – and Dimitry Vortaxis knew this all along. No, there’d be no special mercy for any of them – the only mercy was that their deaths would be fast, and soon. </p><p>But Count Vortaxis had demanded a trial in the Council of Counts for his grandchildren. Dimitry was the Heir, and Anastasia was the only other Vor involved so she was swept along too. Gregor had no idea what the man thought he could achieve, unless the boy – well, man, he was in his late twenties, but still acting like a spoilt brat – the Heir may wish to reclaim his honour with an apology and confession. He was Vor, after all.</p><p>This special meeting of the Council had only two items on the agenda. First, the bill about opening up to more trade with Jackson’s Whole – which had been voted down in seconds. And the trial for High Treason, for Dimitry and Anastasia Vortaxis. Which should have been fast and as simple as possible; apology, acceptance, sentence, everyone out. The Counts had already seen highlights of the questioning, and the full testimonies of all involved, before this session. It should have been a simple rubber-stamping of the only decision possible.</p><p>But Vortaxis was rambling on about his family and their long, proud history. Then the tragic loss of his only son, and his two eldest grandsons. His daughter-in-law hadn’t rated a mention, she was apparently genealogically unimportant. But the Heir, his last surviving hope, who had made a small error after being tricked and trapped by a devious and calculating criminal, his Heir was really another victim of the plot…</p><p>Gregor had seen the vids of the FastPenta sessions. Dimitry knew from the start what was going on. He’d been promised a huge cut of the wealth the Jacksonians would make when the law was passed. He’d already gambled a lot of that fictional money away again, mostly to Perron. He wasn’t just a traitor, he sold himself cheaply. He knew the armsmen would be killed, he knew the children weren’t going to survive. And he accepted it all, he expected to get away with it and then make easy profits afterwards. Greedy, self-indulgent, calculating – he’d set up a dead-man’s-switch of evidence that would be delivered if Perron decided to dispose of him, he had no illusions about his partner in crime. He’d made some suggestions to improve the plans, he knew the safest places to dump the bodies. Dimitry was no hapless victim. </p><p>The girl… Vortaxis hadn’t mentioned her yet. She’d confessed freely, with and without the FastPenta, and with none of the rambling justifications of her brother. She knew nothing of the plot, was totally innocent when she was lured to the house. She’d cared for and about the children, she knew a secret way out of the house, she’d waited until Perron and her brother left the house, hustled the guards away from the room ‘so that the children could sleep’, and got them away. She was long gone before the guards knew it. She got the children to safety, not trusting anyone at all until they got to the Residence itself.</p><p>If she’d stopped then she’d be wearing a medal now. She’d be richly rewarded, with a bright future.</p><p>But she went back. She went back for her brother. She didn’t call ImpSec, she didn’t call the Municipal Guard, she didn’t notify anyone. She went back for him. She’d wanted him to save his honour. And if he refused to confess… she wanted to warn him to escape. Help him, if necessary. She wanted to save whatever she could from this mess. But instead, she’d damned herself as well. And ImpSec followed her back and caught them all. </p><p>Now she stood, still and quiet, beside her brother. They were both dark-haired and dark-eyed, like almost every other Vor. He was tall, broad, and should have been a fine specimen, but he was flabby and obviously out of condition, his pudgy face twisted in fear. He was snivelling as he watched his grandfather, hoping for a miracle.</p><p>There’s no miracles here, Dimitry.</p><p>Aral was solid and reassuring nearby, almost visibly sending support to Gregor. Vorbretten, Vorrutyer and Vorvolk were all serious and grim. Henri looked as if he was almost ready to vomit. Vorhalas and all his Conservatives were silent, cold, and mostly looked like they wanted to be far away. Vortaxis was one of the most rigid of their Conservative party, but to see him now… it was almost obscene. </p><p>“He’s all I have left. He’s the hope of my House….”</p><p>If he’s all you have, old man, you have no hope.</p><p>Beside Dimitry, his sister looked very small. She was slender, middle-height for a Vor woman, possibly a little less, but trying to stand straight. Her face was heavily marked with bruises from the beating, one arm was in a sling. When she was escorted into the Chamber it was obvious that it pained her to move. Gregor waited for the appeal. He would have spared the girl if he could, he would do anything if he was able, but the law was very clear – kidnapping and planning to kill the Imperial children, all of them, was one of the worst levels of High Treason. And she’d tried to help a traitor escape, making her an accessory. No escape for her. Traditional executions for this were beyond gruesome – the only kindness Gregor could offer was a post in the Great Square; or even better, a clean, quiet suicide in her cell. </p><p>He felt sick. How much longer was this going to take? Aral caught his eye, that strong support was helping to get him through this ordeal.</p><p>Couldn’t Vortaxis see how hard this was for everyone?</p><p>“Both of my grandchildren, my only grandchildren – Sire, I beg you, you can’t take both. Please, for the sake of my house, leave me one. Take the girl, but let me keep the boy.”</p><p>You could hear the gasps in the Chamber. </p><p>Anastasia flinched as if she’d been struck, then froze again. </p><p>Gregor almost gaped at the man. No matter how bad things were, they could always get worse. </p><p>Dimitry stirred, trying to mumble some kind of support for his grandfather. One look at the faces around him kept him quiet. </p><p>“My boy – he was tricked, he was used by an evil man, he had no idea until it was too late, he … the girl, she … take her. Leave me one. I need an heir.”</p><p>Gregor couldn’t take this any more. It was accepted that in cases like this the Count involved could speak for as long as he chose, but most of them confined themselves to apologies to the Imperium, to some level of dignity and honour. </p><p>Gregor shook his head and started to rise. It was time.</p><p>Laisa and Miles gaped at each other, hearing Count Vortaxis try to trade an innocent soul for a guilty one. Laisa took a deep breath, “That is several different kinds of Hell No! That girl saved my children.”</p><p>“But what can you do about it?”  </p><p>Laisa stared at her agent provocateur. “I can… be an Empress. And the rules are… whatever I say they are.”</p><p>Miles nodded, “If you move fast enough, by the time they’re ready to stop you, it’s too late.”</p><p>Well, that worked for Miles. It would work for an Empress, too. Laisa turned and marched down the narrow corridor to the door behind Gregor’s seat in the Chamber. The guard at the door was taken by surprise for a moment, then reached out to open the door.</p><p>Laisa lifted one dainty foot.</p><p>Gregor stood tall, taking a breath to speak when the door behind him slammed wide. It crashed against the wall, the gravlatch holding it there. Laisa, his gentle Empress, sailed into the chamber.</p><p>The walls were still echoing from the epic crash, the Counts to a man were gaping at the sight of A WOMAN interrupting their council. And Vortaxis finally, mercifully, stopped speaking. </p><p>Laisa couldn’t decide if she was channelling Mathilde, Lydmylla, Olga Kristina, or Miles. Maybe she was channelling Laisa. She glared at all those useless damned men. “I am Empress Laisa Toscane Vorbarra, and I claim the rights of an Empress!” Talk fast, don’t give them time to recover, “Women, especially Vor women, are my domain. I claim this woman, she is now under my control, sentence, and protection. Come with me!”  She looked at Anastasia, who seemed barely aware of what was happening. Fortunately the guard at her side responded to a whispered word from Aral Vorkosigan, and he hustled the young woman forward. “Bring her.”  Laisa turned and marched down the hallway, listening for the sound of footsteps shuffling behind her. Thank goodness – she didn’t want to ruin the performance by having to go back again.</p><p>Gregor waited until the guard led the girl out of sight. The Speaker closed the door, very carefully, as if he expected it to spring open again. The Emperor faced the silent Chamber, “We pronounce sentence on Dimitry Vortaxis, heir to Count Ludo Vortaxis. He is guilty of High Treason. The sentence is death. This session is over.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wish I Was Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>....but wait, there's more!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia opened her eyes. Smooth sheets, sunshine through the windows, a pleasant room. Everything good quality, but comfortable. This wasn’t her apartment near the Academy. It wasn’t – thank the spirits – her old room at Vortaxis House.</p><p>She moved, and didn’t wince from the pain. Moved a little more; the pain was still there, but set at a distance. Someone must have used the good meds. And the bruises that she could see were faded to pale shadows. </p><p>How long had she been here? And where was here? She lay back and tried to remember… there was the horror her life had become, trying to save Dimitry, being punched and kicked… after that it was patchy. Men in half-armour, weapons, shouting, shooting. A cell. The Council of Counts, Granpere, Dimitry… Granpere trying to save Dimitry. But not her, never her. And that still stabbed, even though she should have known. Someone – a woman – was that the Empress? She was shorter than she looked on the vids – following her along a dark corridor, the guard almost carrying her.. and then.. </p><p>Then this bed. Which wasn’t in a cell. </p><p>Carefully she slid out of bed. Move without thinking. If you don’t think, the memories can’t hurt you. Find the bathroom – that inner door, yes. Relief. Then take off – who owned this nightgown? Take it off, anyway. Shower. Dry. Clean teeth, wash face. </p><p>Back to the room – there were clothes on a chair near the bed. Black dress, mid-calf, flared skirt, fitted top. And a bolero, also black, with black cord edging. </p><p>Vor mourning clothes. </p><p>Don’t think. Don’t. </p><p>Underwear, dress, bolero, boots. All a perfect fit. Suitable Vor-femme mourning. No Vor-femme knife. </p><p>Finally: Properly dressed, hair braided and coiled, ready to face…whatever.</p><p>Was this what you wore to an execution? To your own execution?  She’d expected more of a prison ambience about it. Maybe this was Barrayar’s version of progress; a far more civilised approach to judicial killing. </p><p>Can’t put it off any longer. Anastasia opened the door. There was a Vorbarra armsman on the other side, waiting. </p><p>“Good morning Mam’selle. This way, please.”</p><p>Politest execution ever, apparently. She followed the armsman, trying not to notice that there was another one following her, along interminable corridors, until they stopped at another door. If ever a place needed float-boards, or minikarts, or something… they must walk miles in a day. And what was this place, anyway? It wasn’t ImpSec – too extensive, too civilised, and the bits of ImpSec she’d seen weren’t big on artworks and displays of sculptures. Or on thick, beautifully patterned carpets. </p><p>The armsman knocked once, then opened the door and announced, “Mademoiselle Anastasia Vortaxis, my lady.”</p><p>Anastasia had expected ImpSec, and either a post in the Great Square or an efficiently assisted suicide. Not a sun-filled sitting room, comfortable seating, and ‘Do you take milk or lemon in your tea?’ from a polite and beautifully dressed (in the lastest Komarran fashions) Empress. </p><p>“Milk please.” Was it poisoned? This was certainly an upmarket execution. She’d have to leave a five-star review.</p><p>They sipped, and ate muffins. Anastasia realised she was hungry. She also realised that there were questions she’d have to ask, sooner or later. Mostly sooner. Start with the easy ones, “Um… what time is it? What day….?”</p><p>“You collapsed after you left the Council chamber. The medics had patched you up enough to get through the trial, but you needed more serious treatment, including some surgery. They took you to the emergency Med centre here in the Residence, then we put you in a pleasant guest chamber to recover. You’ve been out for three days. You’ll need to rest and recuperate, but you’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you. But… er… when will I be… um…”  </p><p>“Executed? No. A statement has been issued about that. Basically you deserved a great reward for saving my children. It balanced out the treason thing, so it’s all settled.”  Laisa had decided that, and at the moment nobody was offering any opposition. Once an Empress gathers momentum she’s a force to be reckoned with. Rather like runaway monorail engines, but hopefully without the crash at the end. </p><p>“A statement – then everyone knows what happened?”</p><p>“Not exactly. The Counts know, so some information will certainly spread – most of them can’t keep their mouths shut. But the information about the children actually being kidnapped isn’t being made public. By Imperical edict.”  Even the flappiest-mouthed old Counts would think twice about disobeying that. “Officially it was only a plot. Which is true. We’re just not saying how successful it was.”</p><p>“That must have made the statement rather awkward.”</p><p>Laisa smiled happily, “It did. I let Alys handle it.”</p><p>Time for another muffin.</p><p>“And now…?”</p><p>“Now… well for a while at least you’ll work for me. I’ve put you under my protection. We’ll sort the rest out when things are… when the dust settles.”</p><p>The next question cut off as the armsmen hustled around a bit and then the Emperor came in. He gestured for Anastasia to stay seated, and settled on the lounge beside the Empress, “It’s good to see you up and feeling better, Mademoiselle. We would like to gather some more information from you, if you don’t mind, to settle the case.”</p><p>As he spoke Lord Auditor Vorkosigan hurried in, bowed to the Imperial presences and took his position on a low chair. “Yes, Mademoiselle. We’d like to fill in a few gaps.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m not sure there’s anything else… ImpSec was very efficient.”</p><p>Miles nodded, “Yes, it was an excellent interrogation. I was there.”</p><p>Gregor almost smiled for a moment. “Yes, we know all about recent events. But I’d like to hear your thoughts about the whole situation. Why it all went so wrong in the first place.”</p><p>Anastasia leaned back and took a deep breath, “Dimitry… why he went wrong?”</p><p>“What are the roots of this whole disaster? If we understand that, we can be more aware of the possible issues to head off the next time.” </p><p>And there’d be a next time, that was what made Imperial life so interesting. For a value of ‘interesting’ that included terror and misery. Laisa wouldn’t be letting her children out of the Residence without triple security, ever again. ImpSec was having a few internal reorganisations, too. </p><p>Where did this all start? With a young man who was lazy, or greedy, or just gullible? With a plot to get a better trade deal? </p><p>Miles leaned forward, “We know all about the Jacksonian end of things. And about recent events. But what caused the weakness that made the system so vulnerable? What went wrong? What should we look out for?”</p><p>Old sins cast long shadows. Many High Vor families had enough skeletons in their cupboards to stock their own cemetery. And probably had, several times over. But most of them rolled along in the right direction anyway, without falling into treason. And without her grandfather’s heart-tearing performance in the Council.</p><p>Old stories, old heartbreaks, old misery and anger. How far back were the shaky foundations of this current disaster?</p><p>There were still things she needed to know. If she looked out of the window here, would she see the Great Square? Would she see a figure chained to a post? She’d been out for three days – how long… was he still… there would have been some delay before they took him out there, maybe another challenge from Grandfather. There was still time to see him, time for a last goodbye. </p><p>Time. Old times, new times, time lost and wasted, time shortening rapidly. Time for something new. </p><p>First things first. Answer them, then they’ll answer you.</p><p>She straightened, and fixed her eyes on an attractive artwork on the far wall. Pretty colours. Just think about the pretty colours. “The beginning of all of this… I think it was a very long time ago. It’s like a dark fairy tale, without the happy ending…..”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Once Upon a Time.... On Barrayar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Most fairy tales really aren't comfortable bedtime stories.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started like all fairy tales.  </p><p>Once upon a time there were two brothers. </p><p>Ludo, the eldest, heir to his father the Count. And Bors, barely a year younger. Two brothers to play together, grow together, be a strong alliance in a sometimes-dangerous world. And it was dangerous then, in the middle of the Cetagandan Occupation. Vortaxis District was under Cetagandan control for most of it, the old Count playing a wily game of seeming acceptance while passing information to the Resistance. The boys learned to be careful, to do what was necessary to survive, to pretend. To lie, when they had to. Mostly, their childhood was as good as any at that time.</p><p>But there was a problem. Ludo was the Heir, a fine, typical young Vor. Handsome enough, intelligent enough, capable enough. The perfect young Vor. Perfectly adequate. But Bors was… more. Taller, smarter, more handsome. He loved his brother, he didn’t see any problems. But Ludo felt the comparisons that were being made.</p><p>At school, Bors did so well that he was advanced a grade. Now both boys were in the same class. Ludo would get 85% on a test – quite a good score. But Bors came top of the class. Bors was chosen to be the class captain. A prefect. School captain. Middle of the front row in all the class vids. Ludo was off to the side somewhere. </p><p>If it was anyone else it wouldn’t matter much. But when it’s your younger brother you feel trampled and left behind. </p><p>The Invasion ended. A new Officers Academy was set up, to train the next generation of fine Vor officers. Maintain the traditions. Get society back to normal. The boys went to the Academy together, they were in the first intake. Everyone was watching this new experiment. Ludo did quite well, as usual. Adequate. But Bors won medals for sharpshooting, for five-space maths, and for Tactics. There were public vids of the prizegivings. Ludo was in the background. </p><p>And somewhere along the way, Ludo overheard some idiot making a joke, that maybe Bors should have been the older brother. Maybe Bors would be a better Heir. In that moment the seeds of a long, dreary disaster were sown. Ludo felt a gnawing worry that the Count would change his Choice for Heir. Pick the better brother. And what would Ludo become? A nobody, a humiliated loser. If he’d been the younger brother he’d never have cared, he’d have loved his older brother and supported him any way he could. But this – it was terror and misery just to think about it.</p><p>And he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It soured his relationship with his brother, until it turned to hatred and obsession, and a rivalry that Bors didn’t want, or even care about. </p><p>After the Academy Bors pulled ship duty and sailed away, hoping things would settle down. Ludo resigned from the Service to help run his District, but he did very little there. He spent most of his time grimly building political networks, desperately trying to reinforce a position that hadn’t ever been challenged. </p><p>Ludo’s obsession grew. He not only had to inherit the Countship, he needed to ensure that Bors didn’t. Neither Bors nor any of his line. </p><p>Ludo needed heirs of his own, a dynasty, to keep Bors and his get firmly in their subservient place. Mad Yuri’s war didn’t touch Vortaxis District, but it stopped Ludo’s marriage plans for a time. Finally he found a suitable High Vor maiden, and settled down to start his dynasty.</p><p>And he had a son, a fine healthy boy. The beginning of Ludo’s Vor tribe. At last, a moment of relief from his obsession.</p><p>But there weren’t any more. The doctors talked about something in the blood, that maybe the first child’s blood hadn’t agreed with the mother, and now it attacked future children. There might be some solution in the new Nexus medicines… Ludo didn’t understand or care, all he knew was that every pregnancy ended in miscarriage. And he didn’t trust anything from off-world. He was traditional, conservative old-time Barrayaran, to the core. So Ludo had his one son.</p><p>Bors had eight children. Three daughters and five fine, healthy sons. And a stellar military career with medals and promotions for the Komarran annexation and the Escobaran war. Finally he retired as an admiral, and took to diplomacy. After the first Komarran revolt he was Counsellor of Komarr for a time, and then Ambassador to Cetaganda, then Beta, then further afield. </p><p>Ludo tried to divorce his wife and get a new and more fertile one, but there were no grounds. She wasn’t unfaithful, or barren. She’d given him an heir. He lived, dark and alone, in one wing of Vortaxis House, while she lived happily in another wing of the vast building, with her son. </p><p>The son married, and gave Ludo four grandchildren – three of them sons. The girl was an indulgence for Ludo’s daughter-in-law, a small reward for a job well done. Three grandsons, four grandchildren – his dynasty.  Once again Ludo was able to relax, just a little. He'd won. </p><p>Bors by that time had more than two dozen grandchildren. Three of his sons, and one daughter, were in the military, with successful careers. One son was a blissful biologist on Sergyar, another was rising in the government, predicted to hold a Ministry one day. The other daughter and her husband ran a very successful construction and building restoration business, repairing and rebuilding all those old Vor mansions. Bors' children were busy building happy lives and raising the next generation. Ludo ignored them all.</p><p>Ludo’s son tried to run the District, and drag it into the modern age. There was friction, but he was slowly succeeding. He was his mother's son, with none of Ludo's dark drives. It was a happy home for the children in their wing of the House, with loving parents and fond grandmother. Ludo concentrated his ambitions on his two eldest grandsons, Young Ludo and Francoise, and played his political games. He barely noticed, and certainly didn’t care, when his wife slipped away, her body never really able to recover from years of medical problems. </p><p> But Ludo’s obsessions started to lose their hold on him, as he finally felt safe and secure. He was a Count now, with generations of heirs to follow him. He’d won.</p><p>It was the day Francoise was starting at the Academy, and Young Ludo was starting his final year. Their parents decided to leave the younger two behind that day, the weather wasn’t good and it would be a long trip there and back, so Dimitry and Anastasia stayed with their old nurse while their parents and older brothers headed for the Academy. The pilot took a detour, trying to avoid the worst of the weather. </p><p>Afterwards rumours suggested that there was an unofficial, illegal lightflyer race. That the young man didn’t expect the Vortaxis lightflyer and wasn’t watching out for traffic in that zone. He survived the crash, but all those in the Vortaxis lightflyer were dead before it even hit the ground. </p><p>It was ruled an accident. A year later, to the day, the young flyer’s body was found in the river below the Star Bridge. That was ruled as an accident too, or perhaps he’d been overcome by guilt. Unofficially it was suspected that he’d been overcome by two Vortaxis armsmen, but nobody wanted to investigate all that carefully. Vor lord’s privilege. </p><p>Ludo was shattered by the loss of three of his hopes. He had a single heir left of his noble dynasty. Dimitry became his hope, his focus, and the centre of his new obsession. </p><p>There was no Lady of the House any more, so he had the servants pack the girl’s belongings and sent her to her mother’s family. A Vorsmythe armsman opened the door to find three bags on a float pallet, and a pale, silent twelve-year-old girl.</p><p>Dimitry was taken out of school, he didn’t go to the Academy, he was trained and taught by his grandfather. And he learned… he learned to hide, and lie, and pretend. He learned from the master. Life in Vortaxis House was dismal and oppressive. </p><p>Then, two years after the devastating crash, Ludo had wonderful news. Bors was dead – killed during a revolt on a far-flung planet. He and some of his senior officers had held the line while all the diplomatic staff and their families, from several embassies, escaped through the shuttle port. They took with them most of a religious minority that had become the focus of a power play by a political party who knew how to use prejudice to unite their followers. Tributes flowed in from other planets whose diplomatic staff had been saved. The refugees were resettled on Sergyar. And Ludo celebrated. </p><p>Seven years after that, more good news; Bor’s eldest son – now an admiral of the fleet – had been involved in the defence of an ally who was facing Cetagandan invasion. The enemy had been routed, but the admiral’s ship had taken heavy fire. He was given a state funeral. </p><p>Ludo laughed all day. Two of his greatest enemies gone. </p><p>Ludo crossed them off his list, and started to smile again. And make plans for the next generation. He’d won. </p><p>But some fairy tales don’t have a happily ever after….</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. There's always an ever after, happily or not.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not ending yet. Not all that happy, either.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He sent you away?”  Laisa was outraged.</p><p>“I was lucky. The Vorsmythes – they were wonderful. I had grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins to play with – a warm family again. Vortaxis House after the accident, it was as if all the warmth and colour seeped away. Granpere looked at us like he hated us, he said that the wrong ones died. I felt guilty that I’d escaped from that and poor Deetie had to stay.”</p><p>“Deetie?” </p><p>“Dimitry. When we were little I called him Deetie and he called me Stassie. Our pet names for each other. We were very close – the older boys were kind to us, but we were twelve and thirteen, they were seventeen and twenty. At that age it’s a big gap.”</p><p>The three only children in the room tried to look like they understood. </p><p>“The Vorsmythes were – and are – wonderful. The Count and Countess are my grandparents. They sent me to a good school – not a flower-arranging-snogging-the-dancing-master-High-Vor-bud-finishing-school. When I graduated they offered to give me a season and bring me out into society; a coming-out ball at Vorsmythe House, social events at the Residence, wonderful wardrobe, the whole deal. I told them I’d rather spend that money by going to Solstice University – they have the best business school. I got my accountancy credentials there, Nexus business accreditation, management degree, financial studies, all of it – it was marvellous. Then I came back to the university in Vorbarr Sultana for my postgrad work to get Barrayaran credentials and knowledge of the systems hereb. After I got my masters I thought about a doctorate, but the Fine Arts Academy offered me a job as Bursar. It was Vor nepotism, one of the Directors is a friend of Granda Vorsmythe, but they really did need help – most of their financial records were on bits of old flimsies in shoe boxes.”</p><p>She and Laisa both shuddered.</p><p>“It took a year to untangle it all, and the next two years to get things running smoothly. And… now….”</p><p>Now. </p><p>“You kept in touch with your brother?”</p><p>“Oh yes. Granpere was pressuring him to marry and make some heirs. But he doesn’t…he’s not….”</p><p>“Surely some ambitious young woman wants to be a Countess one day?”</p><p>“I offered to help him find someone suitable. There’s plenty of girls who’d accept whatever… um… requirements there were. With replicators, they didn’t need to be very close to each other. You could marry someone, have plenty of babies, and if  you were discreet you could have as many men on the side as you wanted. And so could your wife.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yes. He couldn’t tell Granpere. It would have been the last straw.”</p><p> Laisa sighed. Barrayar – you needed a sense of humour to cope. </p><p>It just didn’t have to be a very nice sense of humour. </p><p>“He’d call me sometimes, when he was too drunk to get home, or he’d overdosed, or his latest pickup had beaten him up, robbed him, and left him in an alley.  He always called me for help.”</p><p>Her listeners couldn’t find anything to say, just a few supportive mmm’s. </p><p>“I thought – I’d almost talked him into a very good match; she’d understand his… issues….and she’d be happy to have her special secretary/companion at her side, while he did the same with his, and they’d have plenty of babies and love them and everything would be fine. But about a year ago he started saying that he had a new plan, he was going to make plenty of money and then he’d be free of … free of granpere and Vor dynasties and everything. Only – ” Deep breath. Be Vor. “ – he’s not free. Is he.”</p><p>Gregor looked grave, “No. There could be no special dispensation, no balancing deals, for him. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Miles placed a folded flimsy on the coffee table, “He sent you this.”</p><p>Anastasia didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to think ‘last message’. She forced herself to pick it up and look. </p><p>Three words,  ‘Stassie, I’m sorry.’</p><p>Don’t cry. Don’t choke up. Be Vor. “Is he out there now?”</p><p>Miles took over; Gregor and Laisa were holding hands tightly, not sure who was comforting and who was giving comfort. Maybe just clinging together in the storm. “After the Council chamber he was taken to an ImpSec cell. He was offered a choice; a post in the Great Square at dawn, or a faster way. A pill; quick and painless. He chose to end it all quickly.”</p><p>“He’s gone – already? I can’t – no goodbye?”</p><p>“He felt that this was easier. For everyone.”</p><p>Anastasia looked down at her mourning colours. “You don’t wear mourning for traitors. I remember because a friend of Granmere Vorsmythe wore it for her husband, and that whole family was so shocked and afraid, but luckily a cousin was killed in a traffic accident, so they told everyone the mourning was for her. This isn’t for Dimitry. So who?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Another shoe drops. Must be a caterpillar out there.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Don't ask a question if you don't want the answer. Still, some bad news isn't all bad.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Miles looked at Gregor. Gregor looked at Laisa. Laisa glared at Miles, then took a deep breath, “Your grandfather was informed about Dimitry. An hour later his armsman went into the study and found – he’d used a neural disruptor. There was no chance of revival.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence, while they all waited for the blood to settle.</p><p>Unhappily ever after. A curdled fairy tale.</p><p>“So it was all for nothing.”  Anastasia shook her head, “Such a total waste. He had ninety-four years of  life and he achieved nothing. He left nothing of value behind him.”</p><p>Laisa looked her in the eye, “He left you. He left a grandchild who has honour and courage, and who has already made a positive difference in this world.”</p><p>Anastasia tried to smile at the compliment, then shrugged, “He spent nearly a century imagining Bors was nipping at his heels, and now it’ll all go to one of Bors’s grandsons anyway.”</p><p>Gregor nodded, “Ship’s Captain Maxim Vortaxis is the eldest son of his eldest son. Currently on escort duties with a Komarran trade fleet. Fortunately they were less than a week out of port, coming back to Komarr. We’ve sent word and he’ll be arriving by fast courier. He’s already been confirmed by the Council of Counts. We want to get all of this settled as soon as possible.”</p><p> </p><p>Captain Maxim Vortaxis stopped pacing the bridge, folded his arms and glared at the flashing vidscreen, “A secure message, eyes only, accessed in my quarters. What the hell? We’re less than a week from Komarr, they can’t send us off somewhere else, surely. We’ve done five months on this godawful trip already.”</p><p>His second-in-command glanced over, “Maybe they’re giving you another medal. You deserve it for not throttling that Komarran captain.”  The Executive Officer hadn’t enjoyed dealing with their fellow Barrayaran subjects. He sounded almost sorry about the lack of throttling. </p><p>Relations between the Komarran trade fleet and its Barrayaran escort hadn’t actually descended to outright bloodshed. That was about the best you could say. They’d also been attacked by pirates twice, hit by a meteor storm, and narrowly escaped from a planetary civil war that spilled over into the space lanes. But apart from that it hadn’t been a happy trip. </p><p>The navigator glanced at her screen, “There’s a ship heading our way, Captain. It’s small, looks like some kind of fast courier.”</p><p>Maxim groaned, “If it’s bloody ImpSec I’ll…”</p><p>“Read the message, Captain.”  The Executive Officer grinned, “Put us out of your misery.”</p><p>Maxim laughed and headed out, “I hope this is for the most miserable detour ever, and I’ll send you. It’s time you got your teeth into a decent bit of work.”</p><p>An outraged grumble farewelled him. The XO had been shot by pirates, almost lost while directing repairs during the meteor storm, briefly held hostage with his landing party during the civil war (a mistake they wouldn’t make with the next Barrayaran fleet to visit their lovely planet) and almost stabbed by one of the Komarran crew on the largest trade vessel (engineers can be very emotional about their equipment.) Since Maxim could match him injury for injury on the trip, they were both glad to see the end of this run. </p><p>Maxim settled into the seat in his tiny Captain’s Cabin and placed his hand on the verify pad. </p><p>He groaned to see the Imperial logo on the holo screen – not Fleet. ImpSec? No wait, this wasn’t – it was the Emperor’s own – </p><p>Emperor Gregor looked straight at him. He knew this was a recorded message, but the impact was still intense. “Captain Vortaxis, there is a fast courier approaching your vessel. We Request and Require you to hand over your command to your Executive Officer and make all haste to pack your gear and board the courier vessel for a high-speed priority trip back to Barrayar; on arrival you will be brought directly to the Residence and We will explain the situation fully. We won’t give details at this stage, but We regret to inform you of the deaths of Count Ludo Vortaxis and Dimitry, Lord Vortaxis. You are now Count Vortaxis, and your presence is needed to stabilise a difficult situation. You can inform your officers and crew of your bereavement to explain the situation. Congratulations on your new status, Count.”</p><p>The message disintegrated into static as the preset security code triggered. </p><p>Maxim stared at the screen. What the….  Wait, what? What!  Count – ohhhh no no no. Not in his wildest nightmares. He had a good career, he loved his job – Komarrans and all. He was on a comfortable promotions track, after his twenty he’d probably head into diplomacy like his father. Or maybe politics like his brother. Or… anything but Count. Noooo no no no nonono. </p><p>Deep breath. Calm down. </p><p>Ludo dead? Well he was older than dirt. But Dimitry too? He’d met Dimitry a few times when he was on home leave. Hadn’t been too impressed, but he’d seemed healthy enough. He couldn’t be a worse Count than old Ludo, the miserable sod.  But Dimitry was still Lord Vortaxis when he died, apparently, so he’d gone before the old Count. Another traffic accident? Ludo couldn’t live without him? </p><p>“Captain, the courier is docking now.” The navigator’s voice broke into his jumbled thoughts. </p><p>Maxim jumped up and started grabbing his gear. A discreet tap heralded the arrival of his batman, ever helpful and desperately curious, “Can I  be of any assistance sir? Not bad news from home, I hope?”</p><p>“Yes, you can help, Kravik. Get all my gear packed, and stow it on the courier. I’ve been recalled to Barrayar. Vorbarr Sultana.  I have to see the Emperor.”</p><p>“Sir!  Er – up or down, sir?”</p><p>“Sideways. I’m not in trouble, and it’s not a Fleet promotion. It’s family business.  Deaths in the family.”</p><p>“Condolences sir.”</p><p>“Thank you.”  He hurried out, this was going to be the fastest handover ever that didn’t involve actually dying. No, someone else had done that. Dammit, one of his brothers must want to ponce about in the Capital, surely. He’d dump this on Ivor, or Rodan, or even – no, not Yvgeny. </p><p>Ten minutes of news, shock, orders, handover of codes, goodbye message to the crew and personal goodbye-and-thanks to his stunned officers, and Maxim was at the airlock. </p><p>“All my gear loaded, Kravik?”</p><p>“Yes sir. And mine, too.”</p><p>“What? Kravik, you weren’t included in this excursion.”</p><p>“Sir,” the batman straightened to his full height, not more than middling for a Barrayaran, but he made it look impressive, “I am assigned to you. I go where you go, on ship, into battle, or even to Vorbarr Sultana.”</p><p>“I don’t think so. Not this time.”</p><p>“The Capital, sir!  You’ll need your best uniforms. You’ll need to look sharp!  Without me… no sir. I have my pride. My officer will not sag or wrinkle.”</p><p>The courier pilot leaned out of the airlock, “Are we ready, Captain? This is a priority trip.”</p><p>“Yes, fine, coming now. Kravik – this ship is tiny, and crowded. Don’t complain if you have to sleep standing up for a week.”</p><p>“It will be my privilege, sir.”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Tea and Empathy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just a few ladies having afternoon tea. Nothing to see here, move along please.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Laisa watched Alys and wondered how she managed to make the simple process of pouring a cup of tea into a such graceful ritual. She and Cordelia accepted their perfectly-poured cups of social interaction and sipped gratefully. </p><p>Cordelia spoke first, of course, “How’s your new recruit getting on?”</p><p>Laisa smiled, “She’s settled in well. She’s been quartered in the Residence for now. ImpSec had collected all her possessions, to check them – trust ImpSec to be suspicious of someone’s nighties and underwear – and they just sent it all over here.  She’s working for me.”</p><p>Alys nodded, “And doing a wonderful job. She’s taking some of the – the burden – out of charity work.”</p><p>“She certainly is. Cordelia, she has the most amazing skills with a ledger. Give her a pile of scribbled, totally inadequate accounts, and she’ll have them sorted out and running perfectly in a day. Even better – give her a perfect set of accountbooks and in a few hours she’ll know exactly how the company is misleading the government.”</p><p>“Well, that could be very handy.”</p><p>Alys chimed in, “She’s been a huge help with all those endless charities that are always petitioning poor Laisa for help and support. Anastasia goes through their books and finds out just what’s going wrong – some of them aren’t using their money well, sometimes someone is embezzling funds, some of them are simply so disorganised that nobody knows what’s happening with their money. Anastasia sorts it all out, and most of them don’t need to bother Laisa at all.”</p><p>Laisa smiled grimly, “And word’s getting out, so there’s not as many of them crying to me for help. They’re afraid they’ll get it.”</p><p>“Empress rules.”  Cordelia nodded, “Cut through the timewasters and focus on the things that matter.”</p><p>Laisa had stopped kicking doors open, but she was still full steam ahead as Empress. If only she knew were ‘ahead’ was.</p><p>“Has there been much reaction to Anastasia’s continued survival? If there are any problems, she could always come back to Sergyar when Aral and I head back there. We’ll have to go in a week or two, we’ve lingered quite a while this time.”</p><p>“The only overt reaction so far has been positive. Count and Countess Vorsmythe came here the day after the trial. She was still unconscious then, of course, just after the major operation.  They were both so grateful. The poor man had been in agony, his honour demanded the guilty vote, but they were his grandchildren too – his eldest daughter was their mother. Losing her, and then all her children, was a bitter blow. They’re very fond of Anastasia, they’ve been so good to her, and they’ve offered any help or support she needs.” Laisa had been almost paralysed with embarrassment as the old Count sat there, tears rolling down his face, and thanked her profusely for saving his granddaughter. “I’ve also had calls from a whole troop of other Vorsmythes, the Principal and most of the staff from the Academy of Fine Arts, assorted members of the university, and even a few of the Vortaxis clan. All positive.”</p><p>“And the Counts?”  </p><p>Alys chimed in, “Well the Countesses are firmly on her side. The girl was totally innocent, dragged into it by her brother, and she tried to save his honour. Even most of the Counts are sympathetic.”</p><p>“Yes, a doomed effort to save her brother’s honour – that’s suitably Vorish.”</p><p>“I’ll keep her with me for a while at least, she’s doing a great job. But I want to take her into society, she needs to be seen. If she hides away it supports anyone who wants her to suffer. They all have to see that… that being under Our protection stands for something.”</p><p>“Good idea.  But there’s always Sergyar when she’s had enough of Vor.  If she wants a fresh start.”</p><p>Alys offered a delicate plate of tiny cakes and little tarts. “Now we’re all waiting to see the new Count Vortaxis. I hope he can pull that District into the modern age.”</p><p>Cordelia grimaced, “It’d be too much to hope to get ALL of Barrayar into the modern age, of course. Most of those old Counts should be stuffed and put into a museum.”</p><p>“Set them up in the CoC, make it a special display.” Laisa wasn’t too happy with the Counts, their rules, and the mess they’d made of things. And there weren’t many people she could really relax with. Cordelia was a perfect audience for anti-Count grumbles. Alys didn’t join in quite as enthusiastically, but she didn’t give any of her range of offended glares, either. “I get so sick of hearing some of those old sticks whittering on about the Good Old Days.”</p><p>Alys, always the peacemaker, “They just feel nostalgic for the good times in days gone by.”</p><p>“Just when exactly were those Good Old Days? I’ve looked at Barrayaran history. I love the pageantry, the glamour, the excitement. But really, when you get down to it, it’s all mud and blood.”</p><p>“And heroism.”</p><p>“Of course. If it’s doomed, that’s even better.”</p><p>Cordelia chortled quietly in delight at hearing someone else agree with her standard Barrayaran complaints. </p><p>Laisa was full steam ahead, “Barrayaran history. So when where those golden times they all want us to rediscover? First the colony was founded, and when only half the people and equipment were here the wormhole collapsed, cut them off and destroyed most of their electronics. So they lurched into six hundred years officially called The Time of Isolation, or more popularly, the Bloody Centuries. I ask you – does that sound like something we want to revisit? They had wars over manure, for God’s sake. Mutations and misery, killing their own children – we don’t want that back. It only ended when Dorca smashed most of the Counts and forced them to recognise him as Emperor – and what does it tell you when someone called Pierre Le Sanguinaire was one of the GOOD guys?”</p><p>Her listeners were silent, in shock or amusement. She ploughed on Empressorially, “So then some idiot survey team rediscovered them, and Barrayar started scrambling to catch up to the Nexus – just before the nastiest empire at that time invaded them and occupied the place for the next thirty years, and Barrayar produced some of the most vicious resistance fighting ever known. THEN they got rid of the Cetagandans, took a deep breath, and decided to have a very nasty civil war to celebrate their freedom. The new emperor stumbled into Fascism, and meanwhile they invaded the people next door, giving themselves a lifetime of terrorist threats. And that was so much fun they invaded a totally innocent planet, lost the war, and still managed to keep a new planet to settle – even the Komarrans who hate Aral respect the deal-making skills in those negotiations.”</p><p>Cordelia sighed quietly, remembering other times, other places. </p><p>Laisa rolled on, “They followed this up by widespread and bloody civil unrest, mostly notable because it’s one of the few times a sitting ruler has organised a revolt against his own government. And still come out on top. Then a new emperor, and another civil war, of course. Because if there’s nobody left to fight then naturally you fight each other, just to keep in practice. After that just a few minor wars with the Cetagandans, who are no longer the nastiest empire around because we’ve taken their title. So tell me, where in all of that were the good old days?”</p><p>Cordelia spoke gently, “The good old days are now. It’s better now than it ever was. Medicine and education are better, there’s fewer internal or external threats, we have peace and prosperity, and a much higher all-round standard of living than ever before.”</p><p>“So why can’t they see that?”</p><p>Alys shook her head, “They don’t want to go back to when Barrayar was young. They want to go back to when THEY were young. Handsome, strong young lords who could do anything. Not creaking old men who have to follow rules, and have millions of people depending on them. Free and healthy Vor lords who felt that they ruled the world – but without the real responsibilities.”</p><p>“Damn. Now you’re making me sorry for them.”</p><p>They sipped some more. Tea is useful for punctuation in conversations.</p><p>“I just… I just don’t know if I’ll ever fit in.”</p><p>Cordelia looked at her levelly, “You won’t. Don’t try. Let them try to fit in with you. You’re the Empress. You set the rules for style, and much more – for acceptable treatment of women. For their aspirations, their possibilities. Don’t try to lower yourself into some little box. Kick down the sides and drag the rest of the women of Barrayar out of it with you. You’ve made a huge statement already, you’ve put yourself in the game as a trade and financial expert, and as a  protector of women. So check the laws, watch the courts, set up whatever has to be done – refuges, schools, scholarships, business loans, whatever. The single factor that does most to improve standard of living is to raise the education level of women. And most small businesses are run by women. There’s a huge silent, invisible section of the economy out there that gets no recognition and little support, but it’s vital all the same. They need someone to be their champion, and to clear some of the obstacles they face.”</p><p>“I – I don’t have time…”</p><p>“You have the rest of your life. Make it enough. More than half the lawyers on this planet are women, it’s one of the first fields they were able to enter. No blood involved, so the men weren’t as excited about it. So get a flying squad of highly-motivated attack lawyers, and have them check the laws and formulate some new ones, as needed. Alys can muster the support behind the scenes to get them passed.”</p><p>Oh. So that’s where Miles gets it from. The negotiation skills are from Aral, but that deliberate blindness to any obstacles in the path must come from Cordelia. Laisa wondered what she’d hand on to her own children. </p><p>A better Barrayar. </p><p>She leaned forward, “Any suggestions for starting points?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. With Respect, Shut Up and Listen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Being helpful, from a safe distance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Count Vortaxis…’</p><p>No. Too formal.</p><p>‘Maxim…’</p><p>Too personal.</p><p>‘Cousin Maxim…’</p><p>Too cosy. This wasn’t a family reunion.</p><p>Anastasia sighed and tried again. This damn message was taking so long it’d be easier just to ambush him in the corridor and tell him everything face to face. But he wouldn’t want to see her, that was for sure. Treason convictions tend to sour family relationships. </p><p>Maxim – she hadn’t met him. He was – what – six years older? Seven? A big enough gap so that by the time she left school he was o0ff in the Nexus somewhere, spreading Barrayaran joy to anyone who didn’t get away fast enough. She’d met a few of her Vortaxis cousins, and liked them well enough. There were no frosty glares when they ran across each other at various parties, committees, and university fundraisers. She’d been in the same university study group as Emelie Vortaxis for a semester. Rodan Vortaxis and his wife Natalie were keen supporters of the Fine Arts Academy. She was on smile-and-nod acquaintanceship with a few more. Was. Probably not too welcome now, though. She hadn’t heard much about Maxim, he was just a typical Vor – military minded and probably not much else. They said he was good at it. Hopefully his skills would transfer from ship to shore.</p><p>Bors’ descendents hadn’t been interested in hanging on grimly to High Vor status like some second-second sons, lounging around the Capital as town clowns, leeching off their richer relatives. Most of his descendants seemed to have inherited his honour, decency and determined work ethic. Quite a few grandchildren were in the military, of course. But also law, medicine, the sciences and the arts. And business and politics. And since they all worked hard and behaved well, they tended to rise in their chosen fields. That plus the name generally gave them an ‘in’ to whatever social circles they wanted. Ironically, because they weren’t trying hard to cling to High Vor status, most of them could have it if they wanted now, through their own efforts. Gregor was keen on encouraging talent and skill in the highest circles, it made such a pleasant a change from stuffed shirts and old dragons. </p><p>Anastasia wasn’t sure of her own status now. Was she still High Vor? Any kind of Vor? The family embarrassment? </p><p>Right now she was, apparently, illiterate. She sighed and started the message again:</p><p>‘Count,<br/>
I would like to offer my apologies for my part in the recent sad events, and to congratulate and thank you for assuming your new responsible role. The District needs clear guidance at this time.’</p><p>Sorry for helping to kill off most of my close family. I hope you enjoy being Count, now get off your backside and do the job properly.</p><p>‘I won’t interfere with your decisions, or intrude again; you are head of the family now and your word holds sway. But there are some issues that need to be mentioned, for your consideration.’</p><p>You’ve got no idea what to do, and I don’t want you to make a mess of it, so I’m telling you some of the important stuff. Pay attention.</p><p>‘You will of course staff and manage Vortaxis House any way you choose. But the current staff have all worked there for many years; they have given long and loyal service to the family. They also know the most efficient and economical ways of managing.’</p><p>Old Ludo was tightfisted and mean; the staff can make do and mend just about anything. Plus they’re good, loyal people who don’t deserve to be tossed out into the street just because you want to start fresh.</p><p>‘The armsmen were of course released from their oaths on Count Ludo’s death. The majority of the armsmen were serving out their last years; they will most likely wish to retire on their pensions. Some of the younger men may prefer to look for alternate employment. However, a few of them could become the core of your new team of armsmen if you are happy to take their oaths: Gorlov, Letokis and Barlow are decent, honourable men. They know all the routines and requirements, and would make the transition for you so much smoother.’</p><p>Most of the armsmen are older than rocks, but don’t you dare not pay their pensions. Some of them I wouldn’t touch with a bargepole, the old Count used them as his heavies when he wanted someone roughed up (or possibly killed). But those three are fine men who are loyal to the District, and they probably know more about Countly activities and behaviour than you do, so you need them.</p><p>‘You might wish to make some changes. The armsmens’ uniforms need updating and Vortaxis House needs some repairs and attention. These issues may seem merely cosmetic, but you will be entering a very busy social scene, and will need to consider the way Vortaxis concerns are presented to the world.’</p><p>If you look good people will be prepared to give you a chance. And you’re going to have a flood of visitors wanting political alliances, favours, and of course husband-hunting. Make a good impression, it matters.</p><p>‘As for the District, it needs your attention. The current manager is an honest and capable man. But for too long things have been maintained, but not improved. The mines are a major source of income. But instead of simply selling the raw materials we could refine the ore ourselves – the old refineries are still there, but the Count closed them some years ago. Manufacturing would add even more value to the product, bringing money and jobs to the District.’</p><p>Things are just ticking over, which means we’re falling behind the other Districts. The manager does what he can, but Count Ludo was a miserable sod who shut down the refineries when he had an argument with the people running them. And we send all our ore to other Districts, who make more money out of it than we do.</p><p>‘A more aggressive business model would encourage new investment and business partners. Fortunately the monorail runs through the District, giving a direct transport link to the Capital and the main shuttleport. That would be a great advantage to attract and encourage new businesses.’</p><p>Nobody’s doing anything. Get moving and start hustling for more trade and investment. </p><p>‘I wish you well in your new life. The District needs your energy and vision.’</p><p>Good luck, now get moving.</p><p>‘Respectfully, Your cousin, Anastasia Vortaxis.’</p><p>Your cousin the traitor, and family embarrassment. Goodbye and good luck. </p><p>Anastasia hit send and leaned back, she’d done all she could. Maxim would be arriving in Vorbarr Sultana any day now, and he could get on with his new job. She pulled up the next set of documents and smiled grimly, “Ok Vorbarr Sultana Floral Appreciation Society. Let’s see what sort of mess you’ve got yourselves into.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Please Let Me Wake Up Now.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When the Emperor asks... there's really only one answer.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Captain Maxim Vortaxis, now Count Vortaxis, stared at his emperor in shock. He’d expected a story about an accident or drug overdose, maybe heart attack. Not High Treason, trials in the Council of Counts, suicides, and general disgrace and misery. </p><p>And he’d only been on the planet for twenty minutes. </p><p>That morning he’d decided, for the hundredth time, that whoever designed fast couriers must have been a dwarf. Or he had an evil sense of humour.  </p><p>The two pilots hotbedded, splitting the time in the pilot seat and their bunk as the tiny ship redlined it towards their target. They seemed to be trying to set some kind of record. Probably ‘fastest crash in recorded history’ or something. </p><p>Meanwhile Maxim had nothing to do for a week, and was thoroughly bored and miserable. He called up every detail about Vortaxis District and tried to learn about the wretched place. He’d never been there, none of Bors’ descendants had set foot in it either.</p><p>‘Vortaxis District lies on the East Coast, bordered by Vorfolse District to the South, Vortifrani District to the West, and Vorbataille District to the North, with Vorsmythe District north of that, leading to Vorbarra District itself. The total population of the District is believed to be between four and five million, although a census has not been taken for over a decade. The capital of the District, New Corinth, lies on the coast.  The major industries in the District are based around the mines to the south. Ore was refined there, but at this time most of the ore is sold to other Districts for refining and manufacture. The District used to have extensive fish farms, and a variety of small farms supplying vegetables and fruit to the capital, encouraged by the monorail running through the District. However, unemployment has risen over the last decade, and there is no official record of the number of District residents who have moved to Sergyar, or to other Districts. There has been population drift for some time.’</p><p>So basically it used to be thriving and successful, but lately nobody’s had their finger on the pulse. Industry dwindling, farms failing, the whole place in disrepair and the population giving up and voting with their feet. What was Gruncle Ludo doing? Why didn’t Dimitry pick up the slack?</p><p>Eventually he ran out of research resources and was reduced to watching Komarran soap operas. Turned out the new girlfriend was a clone. He’d guessed that from the start. </p><p>The day before they docked Kravik, who’d apparently spent most of his time under the dining table in the mess, emerged and started working on Maxim’s dress uniform. “We must look our best for the Emperor, mustn’t we!”</p><p>“Oh, are you seeing him too?”  Surly, but totally permissible, after a week spent concertina’d into a bunk apparently designed for a much smaller traveller. </p><p>“And we might just trim that hair a little, Captain, and perhaps a shave?”</p><p>Maxim gave in to tyranny and allowed himself to be trimmed and buffed to Imperial standard. </p><p>They docked at the main Fleet satellite station, amazingly without crashing into it. Maxim thanked the two speed jockeys and staggered into the station, and was promptly hustled into a shuttle that seemed to be doing a combat drop. </p><p>Oh wasn’t that a good omen. </p><p>They landed at the Imperial section of the shuttle port, which would have been more interesting if he’d been able to see it, but he was practically thrown into a lightflyer that rocketed towards the Residence. Seriously, it had been just over a week since whatever disaster happened, why the rush now? </p><p>A solemn Vorbarra armsman met him when the flyer landed, and nodded approvingly at the crisp dress uniform. “Your weapons, Count?”</p><p>He flinched at the title, then handed his assorted weaponry to Kravik, who settled down to wait. And probably have a comfortable gossip – Kravik was a genius at information-gathering. </p><p>After marching briskly through several miles of corridors they reached an outer office. A secretary nodded them through and finally Maxim was facing his emperor. </p><p>And an Auditor. Plus the Head of ImpSec, and – oh ye gods and little fishes – Aral Vorkosigan, trailing practically every title a man could hold in the Empire. </p><p>What had Ludo DONE? What new disaster had descended on that poor District? </p><p>“At ease, Captain.”  The emperor took his salute, then waved him to the circle of comfortable chairs and sofas at the far end of the room, “We’ll need to sit for this.”</p><p>Oh yes, let’s be comfortable while disaster is unfurled. What the HELL had happened?</p><p>A few minutes later he knew exactly what had happened. Lord Auditor Vorkosigan, at a gesture from the Emperor, had told him everything. </p><p>General Allegre leaned forward, “Some of that information will remain confidential, Captain. The official story is that the plot was discovered before it was put into action. It’s still treason, of course. The Counts know the whole, but are sworn to secrecy. We aren’t making it public that the children were taken. It has been made public that Mademoiselle Anastasia Vortaxis knew nothing about the conspiracy until she was pressured by her brother to help them; instead she refused to take part and informed the authorities, then tried to persuade her brother to confess all to save his honour or, she admits, to escape to save his life. And she was brutally beaten in revenge. She did commit treason, although not to the degree of those others who were involved. Who are all now deceased. And the Empress interceded on her behalf, saving her.”</p><p>Even the cover story was bad enough. The thought that they’d actually taken the Imperial children, and intended to kill them, was horrific. He was glad he’d arrived home after Dimitry’s death. Things could actually have been worse – he could have been in the middle of the aftermath, caught between Ludo and Dimitry and all the angst and vicious misery. Thank goodness this all happened when it did; in another fortnight he’d have been home on leave. So, amazingly, yes, it could have been worse. </p><p>“But sire, the Countship – I’m not sure I’m the best person for it. I have brothers, cousins… maybe someone else?”</p><p>The Auditor leaned forward, “Do you feel that one of your brothers would do a better job? Who’s next after you?”</p><p>“Ivor.”</p><p>“And he is…?”</p><p>“He’s a major in the Marines.”  Maxim thought about his brother for a moment. Ivor was a little under average Vor height. He was one of those men who look to be as wide as they are tall, and all of it was solid muscle. Ivor was happiest when wearing full body armour, loaded with weapons, and covered in mud. And blood; someone else’s, for preference. He’d been regimental champion for hand-to-hand combat for several years running, and had powered through countless enemy soldiers the same way – his lack of height made opponents overconfident; they underestimated the effect of his lower centre of gravity. Basically he was a large block of solid muscle, firmly based on the ground and almost impossible to shift. Add weapons and he was practically a one-man invasion force. “He has served with great... enthusiasm. He’s a good soldier.”</p><p>“How would he manage dealing with the Council of Counts?”</p><p>A rumble from Aral Vorkosigan, “Might clear the place out a bit. Not necessarily a bad thing.”</p><p>No. Ivor didn’t do politics. Ivor did mayhem, with gusto. “He tends to find physical solutions to problems.”  Accompanied by explosions, usually. </p><p>So, not Ivor.</p><p>The Auditor ploughed on, “And your next brother?”</p><p>“Rodan. He’s a rising star in the government. Hopes to be a minister soon.”  Not giving away any secrets there. “He holds…um… strong views on politics…”  And finances, and society. Rodan made most Progressives look positively conservative. He’d had one trip to Beta, and was fired up with egalitarian ideals, unfortunately coupled with a Barrayaran approach to problem-solving. He didn’t outright suggest revolution, but if it happened he’d be in the front row, with flags. He actually did his job in the government well, though, and saved his revolutionary views for discussions outside work hours. He would work tirelessly to achieve his goals, but he’d do it within the framework of the government. He was dedicated to the point of fanaticism, highly focussed, a smooth and relentless negotiator. </p><p>But as a Count… </p><p>Allegre was already shaking his head. “I believe that your brother is doing a valuable service where he is.”</p><p>Tactful. Maxim nodded regretfully. </p><p>“And your other brother?”</p><p>Yvgeny. Ah.</p><p>“Yvgeny has the soul of a poet. Unfortunately not coupled with the talent. He’s currently working for one of our uncles, in his renovation business.”  </p><p>The uncle worked miracles bringing old buildings back to life, modernising them but keeping the old Barrayaran style. Since tourists had started to trickle in, this had become very popular. Please the tourists with the old, romantic vision but add some Nexus-level comforts. Yvgeny was excellent for impressing customers with his Vor good looks, charm and air of class; and he was surprisingly good at suggesting improvements – he’d just drift around dreamily, then point out the right place for the new lift tubes, or suggest a plan to knock several small salons into a larger room. But he wasn’t connected to the world around him at very many points, and reality tended to come as a constant surprise to him. </p><p>The other men were already shaking their heads. Obviously all this had been checked long before Maxim arrived. </p><p>“I have cousins…”  That sounded pathetically feeble, even to him. </p><p>Aral Vorkosigan frowned, “The Countship isn’t a game of Pass-the-Parcel, Captain. This is a serious lifelong task. Your District is floundering, and recent events have caused some serious political unrest. We need a sitting Count who will be vigorous and hardworking, and who will settle these issues. If the Counts sense blood in the water they’ll tear you to shreds.”  </p><p>Maybe Ivor would be a better choice after all. </p><p>Some of the Counts had started suggesting that they should drop the whole Vortaxis family, and put a younger son of some other sitting Count into the job – someone with the right attitude, and background, and a good track record for coping with Vorbarr Sultana, not some random military man who had no idea how to handle politics at the highest level. Someone like… oh, look… my second son…  Several Counts were already jockeying for their own son, nephew or son-in-law to take that role. There had been friction, dirty dealings, even a minor fistfight. </p><p>Miles smiled helpfully, “You can’t do a worse job than Ludo. Or some of the other Counts. Vorfolse… Vortifrani…”</p><p>His neighbours. Oh wonderful, he was in a morass of useless timewasters. </p><p>Maxim looked towards Emperor Gregor. And was lost. The Emperor pinned him with a steady gaze that seemed to see right through him. “We need someone who will devote themselves to this. Too many people have been let down already. Captain, We need you to take this role, for the good of the Imperium. But it can’t be a command, you have to make the final decision.”</p><p>How could you fail him? Maxim saw his career, his plans, fading away. His life was about to take a new and unwanted turn. But this was the path in front of him. </p><p>“For the good of the Imperium… yes Sire. I accept.”</p><p>Nobody actually sighed with relief, but there was a sense of tension easing away. </p><p>The Lord Auditor took over again, “ImpSec have checked through Vortaxis House, in case Ludo left any surprises for you. No poisons,  bombs or booby traps, you’ll be pleased to know. And they’ve also checked the financials. He didn’t empty out the accounts, or apparently do anything to make life more difficult for you. Actually, the numbers are very healthy indeed. Ludo was a tightfisted old miser, he grudged spending on anything. Except maybe his grandson.”  A sad shadow for a moment, as they thought about the spoilt, lost, doomed young man. “You’ll find that you have more than enough to get established and start making a difference.”</p><p>Aral Vorkosigan leaned forward, “You’ll need to head out to your District and start making plans, reassuring the population, and so on. But the political situation in the Capital will require your presence for a while, too. Plenty of people will want to be your new best friend, recruit you to their views, sound out your own ideas. Marry you. Don’t commit to anything until you feel more secure.”</p><p>Gregor nodded, “You’ll also need to attend some social events, to introduce yourself to High Vor society. Ease your way in.”</p><p>“Watch out for matchmaking Vor mothers with sweet maidenly Vor buds in tow.”  The auditor was irrepressible.</p><p>“And be careful of anyone sounding you out for something less than honourable, or trying to trap you.”  Allegre was earnest in his desire to avoid having to execute more of the Vortaxis family. </p><p>Then there was coffee – sadly nothing stronger – and another avalanche of advice. He needed clothes to present the right image. He had to make suitable social contacts. Get a grip on political issues, upcoming votes in the CoC – his first few votes would send a message to everyone watching him. Everything you do, everything you say, every friend  you make, every vote – it was all being watched. Everything sent a message, and that message had to be that he was safe, sane and secure in the job. He’d need to start quietly and get established. Don’t make waves until he was sure of himself. Wait, watch and learn. </p><p>“Take some time to get up to speed,”  The Lord Auditor nodded sagely, “You’ll need to feel your way quietly for a while. Just slide into your new life, small steps at a time.  You’ll do fine.”</p><p>And then Maxim was somehow back at the lightflyer, clutching an armload of flimsies and data chips, code keys and even a metal ring of genuine old mechanical keys, “Count Ludo was a traditionalist in these things…”</p><p>Kravik leapt forward to sort it all into a carry-case. “Vortaxis House, my lord Count? We’ll be there in a few moments. You’d like to get settled in.”</p><p>And the stream of events swept him away. Maxim felt as if he needed to run alongside, trying to catch up with his life. </p><p>“Fine, but I need alcohol. Strong. And soon.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Everything sends a message. Choose carefully.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The reward for a job well done.....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The Vorbarr Sultana Floral Appreciation Society are now managing their finances correctly. I can’t vouch for all the personal vendettas they’ve got going on. That place is a hotbed of plots and revenge.”</p><p>It was their afternoon reporting session. Anastasia and the Empress had coffee and fruit tarts while they ran over the events of the day, and the plans for tomorrow. </p><p>Laisa nodded, “Yes, but planning all those intrigues gives them something to do. And speaking of something to do, I need you with me at the VS Animal Cruelty Association reception tomorrow afternoon.”  An unfortunate name for a group that did some fine work protecting animals, collecting strays, and finding homes for unwanted pets.</p><p>“Me? But – all their accounts are done, there’s nothing …”</p><p>“Nothing but sipping cups of tea and eating cream cakes and saying nice things. I’m fine with the tea and cream cakes. You can help with the nice things – some of those women need to be kept apart in public, too.”</p><p>“Are you sure? I mean – I’m not someone most of them would want to meet, am I?”</p><p>“You are my assistant. You are the heroine who saved my children – by stopping the plot, as far as they all know. You are part of one of those distinctly Barrayaran fairy tales that involve a huge amount of death, honour and suffering. They’ll adore meeting you – much more than me, I’m just a Komarran.”</p><p>“My lady – you are SO much more than that!”</p><p>“Laisa in private, remember. And it’s not a bad idea if everyone thinks I’m harmless. I’ve been chatting with Cordelia.”</p><p>Anastasia was mostly concerned with the accounts and ledgers of a variety of floundering charities, but she knew that Laisa had been having more meetings than usual, and a conference room down the hall bristled with eager young, female, lawyers. Something was happening, but right now she just liked to hide away in her office and chase numbers. Numbers don’t hit you. Or die.</p><p>“Clothes. Do you have anything suitable for an afternoon tea?”</p><p>“Yes my l– Laisa. They ran all kinds of fundraisers at the Fine Arts Academy, I have a few outfits that will do.”</p><p>“You might need to augment your wardrobe. You’re working in the Residence now, after all.”</p><p>When you’re surfing a tidal wave, it’s best just to let it carry you along.</p><p>“Yes, Laisa.”</p><p>“After that I have three days with the Finance Committee, and you’re dealing with a few more desperate and disorganised societies. Why doing good works means you have to be incompetent at record-keeping, I just don’t know.”</p><p>“Well, maybe we only see the ones who are in trouble.”  </p><p>“Hopefully that’s it.  Now, in three days’ time it’s the reception for the new Cetagandan ambassador. We’ll have delegations from all the embassies, plus any of the High Vor involved in business with them, and a sprinkling of the less xenophobic Counts and Countesses. Alys wants some young people to raise the tone, so you’ll attend that too. You’re going to be supporting me at quite a few balls and receptions this season, so you will need a suitable wardrobe. I’ve had my secretary drop a clothing allowance into your account, shop carefully. Best to get a few good basics and change them out with different accessories and tops-and-tails. No colour requirements, but avoid black and silver for political reasons. And you’d better stay away from Vortaxis colours, for now – what are they?”</p><p>“Forest green and silver. But…”</p><p>“And you are no longer in mourning. Maybe choose something a little restrained, no bright yellows or reds or anything, but not full mourning either. It might be misinterpreted. Clothes, on Barrayar, are a special code, even more so for High Vor.”</p><p>“But…”  She saw a determined gleam in the Imperial eyes, “Yes Laisa. Thank you Laisa.”</p><p>“Good. Take an armsman with you when  you go shopping, it’s your first time outside the Residence since… since it all happened.”</p><p>Just in case. Right. And, of course, sending another message. Was she a messenger too?  Or a message? Probably both. </p><p> </p><p>Armsman Teskovic was ready for a grindingly boring afternoon waiting in some outer chamber of a High-Vor Ladys’ frock shop while Empress Laisa’s new assistant did girl things with fabric and whatever else women did in there, ending up with an aircar full of bags and boxes. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon really; those high-class salons were warm and dry, smelled nice, and nobody shot at you. He’d done this before with the empress: check the place out, probably get a few surprised squeaks from some of the young women cutting out something or other in bright fabric, or running it through the pinner, or measuring hanks of braid and lace. Not a terrorist in sight. Then just wait. Some places even offered him coffee and sweet treats, not that he’d accept anything while on duty. </p><p>But this trip wasn’t like that. The girl gave the driver an unfamiliar address, which turned out to be a huge building that looked like a warehouse.</p><p>“What is this place, miss?”</p><p>“It’s one of the best-kept secrets in Vorbarr Sultana. It’s where the high-end modistes sell off anything they can’t shift. Sometimes the client changed her mind, or it was the wrong size, or it was a sample made to test a new style. All of it in the best fabric, excellent workmanship, and dirt cheap. It costs a fortune to dress for the Season, plenty of High Vor ladies drop by here for a bargain for themselves, or a few new frocks for their Vor bud. They have all the extras, too – spare bits of lace and ribbon, you can take an old dress and make it look totally fresh and different, for a fraction of the price of a new one from one of the salons. And if they’re having a sale to clear out extra stock, it’s even better. Come on!”  And she plunged gleefully through the doors and into what looked to the horrified armsman like a seething mass of humanity, all of them engaged in a riot. </p><p>“I’ll go in first to – Miss!  Miss!”</p><p>What followed was four hours that would live in Teskovic’s nightmares for the rest of his life. </p><p>He’d seen Vor drunk, fighting, obnoxious and arrogant. But he’d never seen the sheer bloodlust of High Vor women searching for bargains. </p><p>“They fought over stockings!  I saw two of them tear some kind of underthing apart, each of them determined to get it. Shoes – the things they did to get the matching shoe, it was horrific. Teeth, claws, they were like wild animals. And I was supposed to be guarding Mam’selle Vortaxis, but she just slipped away from me and – she’s small, she can get through crowds. I kept getting stuck between ladies… ladies’ bits. Bits that stick out. And you can’t push them, they just bounce back!”  </p><p>His horrified (from the single ones) and amused (from the married men) fellow armsmen offered him another soothing ale. </p><p>“Women – it was all women. Everywhere. Savage they were, just savage. And if they weren’t sure about something, they’d TRY IT ON right there! One woman took her clothes off to try something on, and someone else bought her clothes!  She was demanding that the clerk let her keep the new ones to replace the old, but he wanted payment, and she said he’d already got the money, for her other ones… ohhh it went on and on. And I couldn’t find that wretched girl, I was searching everywhere, but every time I saw her she’d be on the move and I never caught up. There was just a heaving mass of determined women, who wouldn’t listen and wouldn’t move. And I couldn’t SHOOT any of them!”</p><p>“But, Tes,” one of his braver friends spoke up, “It was just women.”</p><p>The sufferer gave him a molten glare, “JUST women? Imagine fifty Countess Vorinnises, plus ten of every other Vor dragon, with a few Lady Alyses thrown in. All crammed together around bins and counters. And not one of them prepared to give up her place to let me through. Would YOU try to move a Countess Vorinnis?”</p><p>Glum silence. </p><p>“And then she bounces out of the pack, with an armload of bags, hands them to me and thanks me sweetly for helping, then heads off to get more!”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“If it was terrorists, that’s easy. A real riot in the street, no problem. But those women – I couldn’t force my way through them, or get round them, and I ended up with my arms full of parcels and the woman I was meant to be guarding was out there, alone!”</p><p>Every armsman’s nightmare. They’d been especially jumpy since two of their number were murdered. They all knew the details, armsmen always do. But the nagging terror of losing their charge, failing in their duty, was always there. They’d face attackers without a qualm. But women… Vor women… High Vor women…. They were drilled in protection skills. And they knew that Gregor would be the one dealing with it if they offended some important Count’s wife. He’d have to face the raging Count, have to apologise. And he’d never rebuke or complain to his armsmen, he’d trust them to deal with it, and not even mention his disappointment if they didn’t. Which was far worse than an angry master. Letting The Emperor Down was worse than anything.</p><p>They gave Tes another drink. </p><p> </p><p>Anastasia sorted out the cascade of silks and satins lying across her bed. Subdued colours, mostly purples and blues. No green; that might offend the new Count Vortaxis. No dark red – too much like blood. A lovely glowing coppery brown, with gleaming gold thread decorations – that one was a traditional Vor outfit. There were some Komarran-style sets, wide pants and beautiful glittering jackets over delicate scooped tops, and a couple more Vorish outfits. There was lace in a range of colours from dark purple through violet and lavender, and a range of blues and silver. Ribbons the same. She’d be able to wear some of the plain, well cut and beautifully made dresses and Komarran pants, and redo the lace overlays and decorated jackets to eke out her purchases for as long as possible. Clothes for afternoon teas, clothes for receptions, clothes for balls – she was ready for anything. </p><p>Except actually having to attend. </p><p>She carefully put it all away – the shoes, soft leatherish, like walking on clouds. Underwear delicate as a light breeze. Bands and pins for her hair. </p><p>The afternoon tea with the animal cruelty people had gone well. Of course, they were all so happy to see the Empress that the also-rans in the background didn’t rate much attention. And they were mostly Vor, but middle-class, not High. Nice women who worked hard for charity and did their bit to make the world a better place. </p><p>Tomorrow it was the reception for the Cetagandan Ambassador. Unfortunately, the Cetas wouldn’t be the most dangerous people there. There’d be Counts there – men who’d seen her on trial in the CoC. Countesses who knew what she’d done. </p><p>Dammit. She wasn’t going to wilt now. Pick the best outfit, and go in with head held high. </p><p>It was just a pity that they hadn’t given her Vorfemme knife back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. A fountain of slime. Welcome Home.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is one of my favourite chapters so far.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The aircar drew up at the doors of Vortaxis House. Maxim surveyed his new home.</p><p>It was a large building. Huge. Built of the dense sandstone quarried near the city. The style came from the days when it was fashionable for your stately home to look as much like a prison as possible. Still, it’d be easy to defend. </p><p>It was basically a square block four storeys high, with a large archway entrance in the centre of one side. This led into a huge paved courtyard. More stone. There was – probably – a fountain in the centre; it was unlikely that someone had deliberately designed a pile of moss and slime-covered stone, with an arm or head sticking out here and there. A few discouraged flowers clung to life in what used to be garden beds dotted around the edges of the courtyard; feral descendants of the lovingly nurtured plants that used to live there. Windows glared like empty eyes all around the courtyard, a few of them cracked. Hard to see through the grime if anyone was looking out of them. </p><p>“The roof’s probably falling in. I wouldn’t be surprised if the place is about to collapse. And haunted.”  </p><p>Kravik had jumped out of the front compartment and opened the door for his master, “It’s a fine building, my lord. You’ll have it all sorted out in no time. Bit of a clean and that grey stone will be back to a lovely soft golden yellow. Shine the windows, a few plants, clean out the… er… fountain? And you won’t know the place.”</p><p>“I don’t WANT to know the place. It’s a dull grey lump of misery. Maybe I’ll just knock it down and start again. I can’t imagine how disgusting it is inside.”</p><p>The front door swung open. Maxim sighed and  slid out of the aircar, “Fine, let’s see how bad it is.”  He climbed a few steps up to a wide landing, sheltered by columns supporting an ornate porch roof. </p><p>“Good morning, my lord Count. Welcome to Vortaxis House.”  The man in the doorway bowed, then stood back. </p><p>“Thank you…?”</p><p>“Gorlov, my lord. I was armsman to the previous Count.”</p><p>Maxim glanced past him and realised that there were people lined up each side of the entry hall. Men on the right, beside Gorlov, and women on the left. The first woman curtseyed, “Madame de Lacey, my lord. Housekeeper.” She handed him a data chip, “This is an inventory of all goods, chattels and furnishings in this house. Plus a list of staff, pay rates, and necessary repairs. I hope that all is in order, my lord.”  She curtseyed again and stepped back. </p><p>“Ma Kennerli. Cook. Trained at the New Corinth Culinary Institute. I hope I give satisfaction, my lord.”</p><p>And so it went. Three ex-armsmen, a housekeeper, a cook, two housemaids, one kitchen maid, a tweeny, a bootboy and a General Man. All of them neat and tidy, although the ex-armsmen were wearing civvies. Of course – there wouldn’t be any more armsmen until he swore some in for himself. </p><p>Maxim looked around and realised that despite the dingy windows, the entrance hall was clean and tidy.  </p><p>Gorlov stepped forward, “May I show you around, my lord? You’ll wish to do a full inspection.”</p><p>Would he? No. But he gave in to the tyranny of servants, and spent the next hour being shown through all the rooms in what they called the main part of the House – the side opposite the entrance archway. Grand Dining room, formal drawing room, ballroom, poolroom, study, music room, library, muniment room, long gallery, half a dozen different parlours and sitting rooms of various sizes. (“This is the Yellow Parlour, my lord.”  “It’s not yellow.” “It used to be, before they painted it blue.”) Fortunately, some previous Countly genius had installed a couple of lift tubes in each wing. Powder rooms. Conference room. Breakfast room. Small dining room. (“For the family, my lord. The formal room being too large when you’re not entertaining.”)  </p><p>Right now he was a family of one. And he didn’t feel very entertaining at all. </p><p>Vid room. Games room. Armoury – that was a bit more interesting. Apparently the Vortaxis family had never met a weapon they didn’t like, and nothing was ever thrown away. One small room that was completely empty of furniture and furnishings, but oddly dark and chill (We don’t use that room, my lord. Ever.) </p><p>Security rooms, Armsmens’ ready room, Kitchens, stillroom, pantry, scullery, garden room, boot room, butler’s pantry, cellars full of bottles of wine and spirits just begging him to drink them – soon, my friends, so very soon. Storage rooms in the cellars (“The attics being used as servants’ quarters, my lord.”) Was that an old canon in the corner of one storage room? </p><p>“I’m surprised there’s no dungeons.”</p><p>“They’re this way, my lord.”</p><p>And on and on – rooms for things he’d never thought of doing. This place must have been marvellous for children to play hide and seek. </p><p>Until their childhood stopped. </p><p>“The two side wings are mostly bedrooms, my lord, and suites with studies and sitting rooms. We have prepared a set of rooms for you: bedroom, bathroom, study, sitting room, wardrobe room, dressing room, servant’s room; but of course you will make your own selection when you are ready. The old Count had a set of chambers in the North wing.”</p><p>“Where are my rooms?”</p><p>“In the South wing.”</p><p>Thank the gods, he didn’t want to sleep in Ludo’s bed. Bad enough stepping into his shoes. </p><p>“A light luncheon has been prepared for you, sir, in the Garden Room.”</p><p>It was a long time since there’d been a garden anywhere around this place. “Where are the garages? What’s out the back?”</p><p>“It’s a garden area out back, sir, it was pleasure gardens running down in terraces to the cliffs above the river. If you go out to look, just be careful of the stone wall along the top of the cliff. It may need a little attention soon. But we have a lovely view here. We’re on a bend in the river, and Vorhartung Castle is on the other side, just down a bit. Lovely view of the fireworks each year. The garages are under the House, in a level below the cellars. There’s an entrance ramp in the far corner of the courtyard.  Your vehicles are there, all in excellent condition.”</p><p>“Where are the other armsmen?”</p><p>“Most of them were more than ready to retire, sir. They sent you their best wishes for the future, and they’ve gone back to the District. Some others have already found other employment. The three of us stayed to protect the House, and make sure everything was in order to hand over to you. It’s our last duty.”</p><p>“Thank you.  Who are the neighbours?”</p><p>“Well, there’s gardens each side of us, and them, so nobody is too close, thank goodness. On the south side it’s Vorbretten House – very modern and a lovely building. To the north is Old Vormuir House, but they’ve moved to the New House now – that was built just a century ago. The old house was divided up into apartments – very tastefully done, no rubbish there. And across the road are the Princess Sonia gardens. Named before she became a Countess, of course. Beyond the gardens are a few rows of houses – small but very tasteful, mostly university people and doctors. The main city hospital is a few kilometres to the south-west, and the university is to the north-west. A very nice class of resident around here.”</p><p>Armsmen are snobs, who knew?</p><p>“Yes, a very nice class of person, we rarely get the Municipal Guard or ImpSec called around here. And during the last Civil uprising everyone stayed calm and quiet, and the fighting didn’t get this far.”</p><p>Maybe not such a snob after all. </p><p>“Here is the Garden Room, sir, your luncheon is ready.”</p><p>He dined in solitary splendour, and a few things were already obvious:</p><p>•	The staff were doing a good job. This place hadn’t just been whisked around ready for the new Count, it showed years of polishing and careful repairs.<br/>
•	The staff were also honest; there were no suspicious gaps in the wine cellars and many small, valuable ornaments were scattered about on display.<br/>
•	Inside the House was fine, but he needed some gardeners to do something about the mess outside. The Garden Room was at the back of the House, and he could see the ‘garden area’ leading down to the clifftop. Even the poor ex-armsman, doing his best to please the new Count, couldn’t call it a garden. Pleasure gardens? There hadn’t been any pleasure there for a long time.<br/>
•	He needed to repair the low stone wall along the top of the cliff. Soon.<br/>
•	He had a very good cook. </p><p>After the meal he followed Kravik’s prompting to go to his study – he found it after just three tries – and settled down to wade through what seemed like an endless stream of messages on his comconsole. He checked his personal messages – friends and family and some old military colleagues. His family sent rather ironic congratulations and a fair dose of curiosity. He’d have to invite them all over soon, to see the place – none of them had ever been inside. </p><p>Then the official ‘Count Vortaxis’ code. He deleted most of the messages that were obviously intended for the old Count. Some of them were fairly unsettling, too. No, delete them all – let old sins die with old sinners. </p><p>There were copious invitations for the new Count, many obviously politically-motivated overtures, some simple official congratulations and welcomes. The situation was slightly awkward, but High Vor know how to deal with these things. </p><p>There was also a message from Anastasia Vortaxis, of all people. Giving him a clear set of instructions, the bossy little madam. Unfortunately, it all seemed to be good advice. And he’d probably never meet her anyway. He didn’t send an acknowledgement. Let it all go. </p><p>Then he read the Housekeeper’s information. </p><p>Then he checked the latest Quarterly Report from his District. </p><p>Then he looked over the financials and bank accounts.</p><p>Then he sat, and thought.</p><p>Then he made some calls on the comconsole.</p><p>In the kitchens Kravik was holding court. The staff were on tenterhooks, waiting to see if they still had jobs or not. Since they all lived in, it meant they’d be homeless as well as unemployed if the new Count tossed them out.</p><p>“He’s a good man, is the Captain. Finest soldier I ever saw. His troops would follow him anywhere. And as a ship’s captain he’s brilliant; I’ve seen him bring us through so many dangers, without turning a hair.”</p><p>“When would you see that?”  The bootboy was obviously getting above himself, “You’re his valet, aren’t you? What have you seen that’s worse than a wrinkle in his nice uniform?”</p><p>Kravik leaned back and smiled, “That’s all you know, Mr Boots. I’m a batman, I am. I’ve been assigned to my officer. I care for all his uniforms and his gear, yes. And I’m his driver, when he needs one, for anything from an aircar to a space shuttle. Plus I’m his bodyguard; I follow him everywhere, including into battle. Pirates, we had this trip. Twice. And a small civil war. And a meteor storm. And he’s not one to hang back out of the action. But this last trip was a doddle compared to some of our other missions. We’ve gone up against just about every enemy you can think of, in space and on the ground, over the years. I have a bronze star and three bad-luck medals, I do – and I earned them all at his side. He’s got two silver stars and I can’t even count the rest. Yes, he’s a good man to have on your side.”</p><p>Gorlov shook his head, “What does he know about being a Count? He’ll want to go running back to his career in the military.”</p><p>“The Emperor gave him this job. He’ll do it. He’d turn himself inside out for Emperor Gregor. Loyalty and honour, he’s true Vor right through. He’ll fight and die for him. Or spend his life doing a job he doesn’t want, and doing it well, because it has to be done. True Vor.”</p><p>The cook sniffed, “I don’t want any more violence in this house. We’ve had enough of that.”</p><p>“Oh, he’s hardly ever violent, is the Captain. Doesn’t need to be. He goes quiet, then he thinks, then he jumps. And then the problems are all sorted. Be ready for the jump. He’ll see things right, don’t you worry. It’s all the others who should be worrying. He’s not a man to cross. And he’s awake to all of their games. He’ll show them all.”</p><p>Gorlov looked around as a buzzer sounded. “The study. He wants you.”</p><p>Kravik heaved himself to his feet – the cook had given them a very good lunch – and took Gorlov with him to help find the study. </p><p>“Ah, Kravik. Good. I have a few little jobs for you.  And, Gorlov, is it? Could you get the other ex-armsmen up here please. And the housekeeper, and the cook.”</p><p>Kravik smiled. His captain was about to jump.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Diplomacy - One Dance At A TIme</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anastasia is settling in to her new life. With sparkles.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia chose a deceptively simple deep purple dress, with a glittering bolero in shades from purple to lilac. Hair up with a few sparkling purple and silver ribbons threaded through the braids and curls. Sparkling shoes. Sparkles make you feel brave. </p><p>Underwear – had she remembered underwear? Yes, thank goodness. </p><p>A knock at her door – an armsman ready to escort her to the waiting room. She hurried along; had to be there before the Empress. </p><p>The Emperor and Empress swept into the room a few minutes later. Gregor was in his most formal House uniform, Laisa in floating Komarran pants and scooped top, with an ornate jacket – all in shades to match her eyes. She looked stunning. </p><p>“Anastasia, you’re perfect. Now, Gregor and I will be stuck on the receiving line for ages. Can you just circulate, and make sure that all of the delegates have whatever they need? Lady Alys will be here in a few moments, and the Koudelkas, so there’ll be a few people in the main rooms as the guests arrive. And Alys can deal with anything, so go to her if you spot a problem. Most of the waiters are ImpSec, too, so they can step in if necessary. You’re mainly here as… well… decoration really. We need some young ones to leaven the old guard. Dance as much as you can, we want people circling around. We have to put on a good show.”</p><p>Gregor was already watching the door.</p><p>Laisa waved, “We have to go. He hates being late – it’s so rude. Have a good time – and that’s an order!”</p><p>Anastasia stepped into the main ballroom. It was a fairy wonderland of lights, flowers, glittering chandeliers and mirrors around the room multiplying the guests endlessly. Right now she could see a young woman in purple, and sparkles, repeated around the room. Safety in numbers. When a little girl dreams of a fairy princess, she is dancing in this room. Well, she hadn’t had a season or done the whole Vor bud thing, so this was it. And she was ordered to enjoy it. </p><p>And, really, it was beautiful, and exciting. And how could she complain when she considered what COULD have happened to her? </p><p>At that moment the ballroom really was magic, it seemed. Anastasia felt a rush of energy. Courage. And joy. She was young, and alive. She had a great job, she was seeing amazing things. If she scuttled around feeling miserable it would waste all this, for nothing. </p><p>Tonight she was going to laugh, and dance, and have a great time. And live.</p><p>There were already a few people in the ballroom; a small orchestra in one corner, some waiters who were probably trained killers (so long as they brought her champagne she didn’t care), a couple of armsmen looming quietly. </p><p>Lady Alys and Simon Illyan sailed into the room. Anastasia went over to give them a polite greeting. She knew Alys had checked her over in one glance, and was satisfied. Good, no social solecisms here. Simon Illyan was quiet and polite. Absolutely terrifying, of course, but nice with it. </p><p>A bustle at the door was the Koudelka party; parents, all four daughters and various male attachments. The room didn’t look quite so empty now. And when the Viceroy and Vicereine arrived, with Lord Auditor Vorkosigan and his beautiful wife, the party had really started. Anastasia smiled and nodded, tried to remember all the names and faces, and sipped her champagne very slowly. She only wanted enough for a pleasant buzz, not an evening spent swinging from the chandelier. </p><p>The next hour brought assorted ambassadors and diplomats, Counts and Countesses, lords and ladies, high-achieving proles and a squad of trade-oriented Komarrans. There were also plenty of military uniforms, and then there was a whisper through the crowd and the Cetagandans swept into the room. </p><p>Anastasia danced. She danced with a nice young officer. Then one of his friends. Then a cultural attache from the Betan embassy. A young Vor lord – as he was so keen to tell her. An Escobaran. A delegate from Earth, she was fascinated to chat about life on the old planet. Anastasia swirled around the room, laughing and chatting, helping to add to the glamour of the night. </p><p>At one point she found herself dancing with the Lord Auditor. It was slightly unsettling – not just his height, but his tendency to be half a beat ahead of the music. But he had a wonderful collection of stories about various Counts, most of them probably libellous, but also hilarious. </p><p>“Thank you, my dear. I’m glad to see that you’ve moved on from recent events.”</p><p>“I’m alive. I’m not going to waste it.”</p><p>“Words to live by.”</p><p>After the rather breathless dance with Lord Vorkosigan she took a short break. A quiet word with one of the waiters and he indicated a few glasses on one side of his tray; apple juice can look a lot like champagne, but you don’t end up giggling in the corner after too many. </p><p>“…too much time on sex and not nearly enough on learning refinement.”</p><p>“Oh, so your slaves do that for you as well? Your wives probably prefer them anyway.”</p><p>She looked around and saw two of the guests, a Betan junior attache and one of the Cetagandans who’d arrived with the new Ambassador. Another cultural attache, probably – did anyone actually not know that meant spy? Diplomacy was all about pretending, and as long as everyone pretended the same things it seemed to work. </p><p>But not for these two. The insults were starting to get louder. People were looking around. She hurried up to them, “Lord Beneres, isn’t it? Welcome to Barrayar. I wonder, could I ask a favour, please? I’ve always heard how graceful Cetagandans are, and what wonderful dancers – would you care to take a turn on the floor with me?”</p><p>She had a death grip on his arm, and a determined smile. The Cetagandan gave one last snarl at his Betan opponent, and swept her out onto the dance floor, “Certainly my lady. Who do I have the honour of escorting?”</p><p>He was actually quite easy to chat with, she just had to ask a few questions and he was happy to improve her mind. After the dance she took him off to the refreshment room, where he was delighted to tell her how inferior it all was to food in the Cetagandan Empire. Finally she released him back to his Ambassador, with fulsome thanks for his kind attentions.</p><p>“Nicely done.”  Lady Alys drifted past. From across the ballroom Laisa nodded. </p><p>More dances, more apple juice. She scooped up a lonely-looking Komarran trade envoy, enjoyed a dance with him and then introduced him to a Betan diplomat. This was just like university parties, only with ImpSec and Armsmen scattered around. Make sure all the special guests have something to drink and someone to talk to, and keep combatants apart. </p><p>“Anastasia. You look fine, my dear.”  </p><p>It was Countess Vorsmythe. “Grandam – Oh it’s so good to see you.”</p><p>They’d sent messages on the comconsole, support and love and offers of a place to stay if she needed it. </p><p>Granda was beside her, “You look so well. So happy.”  So alive. She remembered seeing his face in the Council of Counts. She’d looked away, it was unbearable to see him holding himself straight and still, with agony in his eyes. </p><p>“I am. I’m truly happy. I’m not going to waste this chance.”</p><p>“Very wise. When you have some time free, please call by Vorsmythe House. Some of your cousins are in town, we’ll have a family dinner. I’m so glad…” He choked up for a moment. Grandam gave her a quick hug and they both headed away. This wasn’t the time or place for high emotion. </p><p>By the end of the night she was happily tired, and satisfied with her efforts. Laisa had a quick word as the Imperial couple left the ballroom, “Well done. Thank you – you did a great job. Decorative and smart!”</p><p>Finally Anastasia stretched out in her bed. So this was her life now. And it was good. </p><p>And she was meeting that Cetagandan for coffee tomorrow, in the Great Square. Purely in the interests of diplomacy, of course.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Starting slowly. For a given value of 'slow'.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxim learned to give orders in the military. It shows.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim waited as the cook and housekeeper hurried into the room. They lined up with the armsmen, all of them looking like frightened children in the headmaster’s study. </p><p>Ah, memories from long ago. Nice to be on the other side of the desk for a change. </p><p>“I have quite a few things to get through, so I’ll make this fast. First, I’d like to offer employment to all the house staff. I’m very pleased with the standard of care you’ve given to this house, in difficult conditions. Please let the rest of the staff know, and you can all tell me this evening if you accept the offer. Madame de Lacey, these are the new pay grades.” He handed her a flimsy. The old miser had imported people from his District as house servants – many Counts did that. But he’d give them a room in the attic, and then charge them three-quarters of their pay to cover ‘bed and board’. And the pay wasn’t close to Vorbarr Sultana rates, either. Well, that was an easy fix. </p><p>“Now, armsmen. You three gentlemen have been recommended to me,” by an interfering little bossyboots, but it was good advice anyway, “And I’d like to offer you the chance to take your oath with me. I suggest a one-month trial period; if we’re all satisfied with each other at the end of it we’ll have a swearing-in. There may be a few more men to add to that, if I can find some. I’ll need to get my score together quickly, there’s a lot of work to do.”</p><p>There was a relieved mumble of agreement. </p><p>“Kravik. You’ll need to make a decision. At the moment I’m officially on post-mission leave, so you’re still assigned to me. But I take my oath in a week, and I’ll be resigning my commission at that time. You can return to the military, or stay with me, as you choose.”</p><p>Kravik smiled, “Well, sir, as it happens I hit my twenty half-way through our last trip. I’d be making a decision about re-upping or not after the trip anyway. So, if you please, sir, I’ll stay with you.”</p><p>“Excellent. Would you like to be an armsman?”</p><p>They all gaped at him, “But I’m not from your District, sir!”</p><p>“That’s a tradition, not a requirement. I checked. And you’re as loyal a Vortaxis man as any I have. Plus we’ve been through hell and back together, a few times, and I know I can depend on you. Think about it, if  you don’t want to take the oath you can still work for me. It’s your decision.  Now, Gorlov, I’m told that the armsmens’ uniforms need some attention. Could I see one, please?”</p><p>The once and future armsman scuttled out. </p><p>Maxim turned back to the housekeeper, “There’ll be a few people turning up tomorrow. You’re going to be rather busy, I’m afraid. My sister is coming to stay for a while, she’ll act as my social secretary. Her husband is on ship duty, won’t be home for months. She’ll be living here, she’ll need a suite – bedroom, bathroom and sitting room. Plus a room for the nanny, and accommodation for her children; two boys, four and seven, and two girls, two and a babe in arms. I’m on the top floor in the South wing, yes? Put them on the lowest bedroom floor in the same wing, that’ll be easier for her.”</p><p>And that would leave an entire bedroom floor between him and all those babies. Strategy is everything.</p><p>“Also my mother will be staying for a few weeks. Give her a suite at the other end of the same floor, please.  And I’m holding a family dinner here in three days’ time. I don’t have firm numbers yet – my sister will organise it all, it’ll give her something to do – there’ll be two dozen at least, maybe closer to three.”</p><p>“Uh, yes sir.”  The cook and housekeeper shared a glance, both of them obviously thinking hard.  Madame de Lacey looked at him nervously, “Sir, the staff numbers have fallen in recent years, with only two people living here. But with the extra people, and children at that, and entertaining, well we really could do with a few more hands.”</p><p>“What do you need?”</p><p>She took a deep breath, and went for it; “A laundry maid, sir. Sous-chef. Another kitchen maid, a scullery maid and another housemaid too. And… and if you’re doing the gardens, we’ll need two gardeners and a Boy.”</p><p>“A Boy?  What does he do – I’m almost afraid to ask.”</p><p>“He’s an apprentice, sir. For the gardeners. Usually a son of one of them, being trained up to continue the work.”</p><p>“Fine. I’ll put the word out in the District. Do you know anyone who wants a job?”</p><p>“In the District, sir? Just about everyone. Er… as it happens we might know a few people… my granddaughter, Ma Kennerli’s niece, and a few others. We could get in contact.”</p><p>“Have them report to – what’s the place called – Glamis? – in the District, tomorrow. I’m going down for the day to check the place out. I’ll see them all then, and either bring them back with me or give them the fare for the monorail.”</p><p>“Oh sir, that would be – wonderful. The fare – that will really help. Thank you.”</p><p>You know it’s bad when a one-way rail fare is stretching their resources. Yes, things had to be done.</p><p>“Now, there’s some people turning up tomorrow morning. Early. They’ll be cleaning the outside of the building, and the windows. Checking and repairing the roof, fixing any broken windows, and cleaning up that godawful pile of slime in the courtyard, or removing it. You listed the heating system as needing major repairs; show it to them, and they’ll get started. I see there’s some kind of – what are they, hothouses? – at each side of the back garden. They’ll clean them up, too.  What’s going on with them?”</p><p>One of the other armsmen – Barlow, possibly – stepped up; “The one on the left was converted to a swimming pool, sir. Lovely in summer, and it can be heated in winter. Well, it could. It used to be very popular with the family, in… earlier times. And the other side was used as a tea room for garden parties, with plants all round and some tables and chairs. Very pretty, it was. They’ve both been a bit neglected lately.”</p><p>For at least a decade, it looked like.  “Fine. Tell the construction crews to clean them out, fix them up, and get the pool set up again – but only after the other work is done, it’s not the first priority. And the other side – have them clean and tidy it as well, and I’ll set up one end as an artist studio for my mother, she’ll love the light there, and the view along the river. The other end can be set up for afternoon teas, the ladies will like that too.”</p><p>Kravik was smiling, the others looked a bit stunned.</p><p>“I also have some gardeners – sorry, landscapers – turning up. They’ll fix up the scraggly mess around the courtyard, and clear up and replant the back gardens. Once the hothouse and poolroom are cleaned out they can stock them with suitable plants, too. The front and then the back is their priority. I see there’s walls from the end of the House to the side boundaries, so the side gardens are separate from the main garden back there. After the back is done I’ll have the landscapers turn the south wing garden into a playground. Some grassy area to run around in, sandpit, climbing equipment, swings and so on. A few nice gardens and seats in the sun for nannies and tired mothers. If any of my new armsmen have children, they can use the play area too.” Always a good idea to keep the rugrats contained. “And we’ll set some area aside there as a kitchen garden, we’ll grow our own herbs and … garden stuff.”  </p><p>The cook looked happy at the thought of fresh herbs. </p><p>“And the North wing garden, sir?”  Letokis was starting to enjoy himself.</p><p>“No, I have some plans for the North Wing, we’ll leave it for now. Ok, next thing on my list… Most of the staff have rooms in the attics, yes?  And married quarters for the armsmen are in the fourth wing, around the main entrance gate? Do we have enough accommodation for the new staff?”</p><p>“Yes sir. Plenty of space, and it’s all been kept neat and tidy, sir, but of course there’s no armsmen there now.  The married quarters haven’t been used for quite a while. And in the attics, the maids have rooms at one end, the armsmen and the other gentlemen have rooms at the other. And Ma Kennerli and myself have suites – each with a bedroom, sitting room and our own private bathroom, as is our right and status as senior staff, in between the girls and the men.” And heaven help the man who tried to breach that barrier. “There’s a staff common room down by the kitchens. It’ll be lovely to see more faces around the table.”</p><p>Maxim wondered just how many people it took to care for one Count. He must have become very fragile and delicate with his promotion. </p><p>“Fine. I’ve listed all the names and numbers you’ll need for tomorrow, Madam de Lacey, on that flimsy – let my sister handle any problems once she arrives. Letokis, you’ll need to take one of the  largest aircars to this address at noon,” he handed over another flimsy, “And pick up my sister, the nanny, four children and probably a huge amount of luggage. Good luck.”</p><p>“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”</p><p>“Barlow, you’ll go to the shuttle port at fourteen hundred hours, and collect my mother, she’s flying in from the South Continent.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>“Ma Kennerli, my sister will need some lunch after she arrives. And the children will probably have to be fed, too. And she and my mother will need afternoon tea, or something, when my mother arrives. I’m sure you can sort all that out.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”  It was the easiest answer. Just go with the flow. And there were going to be children in the House again – it had been so long! </p><p>“Ah Gorlov, you’re back, good. You’re on duty here at the House tomorrow. Keep an eye on all the workmen and see that they have what they need. If you think of any more jobs that have to be done, add them to the list.”</p><p>“Yes sir. And sir, one of the retiring armsmen, a good man, has a grandson who’s just finished his twenty. It’s a bit of a family tradition for them.”</p><p>A grandson who’d done his twenty? How old were most of the armsmen? It really was time for some fresh faces around here. </p><p>“Fine, contact him and see if he’s interested. He can see me tomorrow afternoon at Glamis, too. All of you armsmen, when you have nothing to do tomorrow you can sort out Count Ludo’s personal gear. And Lord Vortaxis’s stuff as well. Four piles: official – things that I’ll need to have; family – things that we’ll send to Mademoiselle Anastasia; too good to toss – put it in trunks in the cellar for now; Not needed – toss it or share it out, or donate it to charity. We’ll get all of that cleared out and be ready to start fresh. Now, is that your armsman’s livery? Good gods man, what have you been doing to it?”</p><p>He looked at a shapeless dark green jacket, obviously threadbare and with several darns and patches. The silver braid was badly marked, and falling away in parts. </p><p>“The old Count had each retiring armsman pass his uniforms on to the next man, sir.”</p><p>“Well, pass that one on to the recyc bin. Kravik, tomorrow morning you can find me the best tailor in Vorbarr Sultana. Best and fastest. My mother will be sending some livery designs tomorrow morning – you’ve got my com codes. Take the designs to the tailor you choose, use my name and if necessary add an emperor  – and tell him I need a formal Count’s livery in less than a week, ready for my oath-taking ceremony. And a banner for Vorhartung Castle.  There was a file in the archives about Count’s uniforms and armsmen’s livery and banners.  I’ve sent it to my mother, she’ll work up something that keeps the traditional look but gives it a modern touch, and a bit of her own special pizzazz, whatever that is. She’ll send the results tomorrow morning, they’ll automatically forward to you.  Tell the tailor to incorporate the designs from my mother, and I’ll trust him, and you, about fabrics. I’ll also need two everyday House uniforms as soon as, and a set of House blacks, and later there’ll be the armsmen to do. Discuss it with these men tonight, and get some idea about any improvements they’d like to see added to the uniforms. I want something traditional, but up to date, well fitted and easy to move in, for them and for me. No problem, I’m sure. Plus I want some civilian suits, two to start with. Put a rush on them too. You can decide on colour and style. You scanned my measurements for my new uniforms last year, so input them into the tailor’s comp system and get him moving. Then stock me up with whatever else I need – shirts, casual stuff, you know the drill. I’ve sent you the codes to call directly on my account. Don’t send me broke.”</p><p>“But sir, tomorrow – the District. I should pilot for you.”</p><p>“No need. I’ll take one of the lightflyers. The fastest one. I’m just hopping down for a quick visit to get the feel of the place. I’ll see what Glamis looks like, too. It’s the family estate near the Capital, yes?”</p><p>“Yes sir,” Barlow was gallantly keeping up, “On the coast just south of the capital. Lovely area. The house should be well maintained, but it might need some updating.”  </p><p>“I’ll sort that out later. So long as it’s liveable for now. I’ll be back in the evening. Have any prospective employees that  you can contact in time go to Glamis House to see me after lunch.”</p><p>There was a general mumble of agreement. </p><p>“Thank you. That will be all for now.”</p><p>As they filed out, Kravik nudged Gorlov, “What did I tell you? He’ll think for a while, then jump.”</p><p>“You said that he said that the Emperor and the Lord Auditor said that he was to start slowly.”</p><p>“Yes, but that wasn’t an order, see. More of a suggestion. And my officer, he doesn’t go slow. See the problem, think about the problem, then get moving to solve the problem. And he thinks fast.”</p><p>Maxim leaned back and smiled, well that’d get a few things moving. He thought back to his hard work on the comconsole that afternoon:</p><p>“Hello Mother, it’s me, your favourite son. No, not Ivor. No, not Rodan. Oh for heaven’s sake not Yvgeny. Maxim, and you know that perfectly well. Ok, I didn’t write much but I was busy. Pirates, and things. Anyway – yes, you’re right, I’m going to be a Count. Poor old Ludo, I’m his worst nightmare. Now, how would you like a nice holiday in the Capital? I’ve got a big empty house and I need someone to protect me from predatory Vor mothers with hopeful daughters. Oh, and when you have nothing to do, could you run your eyes over the Count’s livery and rough out a few ideas? Shame to waste having an artist in the family. Something that keeps the traditional look, but with a modern touch. I’ve sent you the old file from the archives, you can send the designs through to me in the morning. No no don’t thank me, I know that deep down you’re happy to do it. Now I’ve booked you a flight tomorrow, be at the shuttleport at eight in the morning and you’ll be here before you know it. Love you…”</p><p>“Hello, Verity? It’s your favourite brother. No, not… oh forget it. Maxim, yes, Count Maxim, so you mind your manners girl. Now, I know Orly is off enjoying himself in the Nexus, so you’re stuck with nothing to do. Probably bored, yes? Ok, four children, but you do have a nanny to do all the work. What? Verity, I am shocked – can any of your children hear you right now? Such language, and to your dearest brother, too. Anyway, I know you’d love to have something to do to fill those long empty hours, so how about you come and stay here for a while? I could do with a social secretary. You can even bring the children, if you must. Verity – language!  High Vor social secretaries don’t know those words. How about you move in tomorrow – I’ll send an aircar at noon. We’ll find a few rooms for you somewhere in this place, fit you in to a little corner. Oh, and once you’ve settled in you can spend the rest of the afternoon getting in touch with all the family. Big family dinner at my place. In three days. It’ll give the staff something to do, break up the boredom. I’ll let you sort it all out, you’re so good at that. Ohh Verity, I’m shocked that you know those words!  Go and pack, I’ll see you tomorrow night. Oh, and Mother’s arriving tomorrow, too.  Don’t worry, the staff are handling everything, you just get moving on that family dinner. And if any matchmaking Vor mothers call, tell them I’ve moved to Komarr.”</p><p>“Uncle Valery – it’s me, your favourite nephew. No, your favourite nephew the Count. Yes, that one. How long would it take to do a full outside cleaning of a rather large building, four storeys plus attics; check and repair the roof; clean and repair the windows; sort out a few greenhouses and a swimming pool; and install a new heating system? Oh, and turn a pile of slime into a fountain. Not sure what it looks like, probably a noble Vor killing something, that’s the usual, isn’t it? A week at least, and you’re booked up for months, huh? How about three days, start at dawn tomorrow, Vortaxis House? Uncle Valery, have you been listening to Verity? Such appalling language – your workers must be blushing with   shock. Tomorrow morning then? Don’t worry, I’ll pay full rates, minus a family discount, of course. Ah, I can tell how happy you are to be asked. Oh, and there’s a family dinner here in three days, so it has to be ready in time. And I expect you to mind your language around my housekeeper, you’ll shock the poor woman! Dawn tomorrow. Bye.”</p><p>“Petros, it’s your favourite cousin. Ok ok don’t do the whole list. Maxim, the Count who needs some gardeners. Ok, landscapers, whatever. Plant men. Just a back garden, and you might want to check the low stone wall along the cliff-top. You don’t have too much to do for it all, I found the old garden plans in the archives, I’ll shoot them over to you now. See, all done, you just have to clear things up a bit and plant stuff. Petros, have you been spending time with Verity? And after Uncle Valery cleans them up, there’s a couple of hothouses, one each end of the garden. They’ll need plants and whatever, too. I want an artist studio at the cliff end of one of them, and a space for afternoon tea. Honestly, is everyone in my family a potty-mouth? I’m shocked, I tell you. It wasn’t like that in the military. Troopers keep themselves nice. Oh, and there used to be a few garden things around the main courtyard, too. Just drop some stuff in there, or something, tidy it up a bit, ok? Plenty of time, no rush, done in three days. There’s a bit more to come after that, I want a herb garden, playground and flower gardens along one side of the house. I’ll sort out the other side later. Perfect. Tomorrow morning, nice and early, and you’ll knock it over in three days, easy. Mates rates? Lovely. Have to go, Petros, you can thank  me later.”</p><p>Maxim stared at the ceiling for a moment as the servants hurried out, with various shades of relief and satisfaction. Ok, that’s all done. What’s next?  He leaned forward to the comconsole, “Hello, Tante Eloise? It’s your favourite nephew. No not… start at the other end of the list, ok? Maxim. Yes, Count Maxim. Well, I can’t do a worse job than poor old Ludo, can I!  Now, I have a little idea – are you and Oncle Abelard still running that building conversion company? Oh good. Well, I have a little, small, tiny job you might like to think about. Can you pop over here this afternoon? Tante!  You’ve definitely been spending time with Verity. In half an hour, yes? I’ll be waiting. See you then.”</p><p>Yes, he’d made a fair start on things. Tomorrow, the District.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The place of coffee in Internexial relations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>On Barrayar, even a cup of coffee has wider implications.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What the hell was I thinking?</p><p>What the HELL was I thinking?</p><p>What the hell was I THINKING?</p><p>I’m meeting a Cetagandan for coffee this afternoon. </p><p>Yes, because ONE trial for treason wasn’t nearly enough – anyone can do it ONCE. Oh no, I have to go for gold. </p><p>It’s not as if I was swept away in a wave of throbbing hormones. </p><p>I just liked the way he talked about Cetaganda, it was refreshing to think about a totally different place for a change. I miss the sophistication of Komarr. I love Barrayar, it’s my heart, but sometimes it can be a bit… blinkered? Intense? </p><p>Sometimes it’s so nice to just not be me, to be a girl, in a pretty dress, laughing. And he did make me laugh.</p><p>He’s not interested in me romantically, I can tell. And he doesn’t give me any tingles, either. I think he’s more interested in that Betan herm that he was arguing with last night. But it was fun, and free, and I forgot… </p><p>He’s a damn CETAGANDAN. </p><p>I wonder if Laisa knows.</p><p>Of course she knows.</p><p>Oh ye gods and little fishes, I’ll have Lady Alys after me, for sure. I’m toast.</p><p>Anastasia sighed and crawled out of bed. Dammit, she didn’t even get drunk last night. Apple juice! What’s the point of apple juice if you’re going to do something stupid anyway?</p><p>She had breakfast in the Ladies’ parlour, as usual. It was for those  in the Residence who weren’t servants, and weren’t guests, but a social limbo in between. Some of the new lawyers Laisa had hired were there, twittering happily about some new law they were framing. Something to do with shared property and independence of small businesses. Did husbands own half of everything their wives did? All of it, like the old days? None? But then what about her share of his property, if they divorce? </p><p>Finally she couldn’t stand it any more, “If you’re legislating about small business ownership, don’t forget the taxation situation. Is he writing off her business losses as part of his taxation component? And if he owns part of her business, does he have to pay part of her tax? Or does she have to pay part of his?” She went on to explain some of the finer points of current taxation law, and how it would need to change to accommodate the new law they were discussing.</p><p>The lawyers looked startled for a moment, like sheep in the frontlights of an aircar. Then they smiled and nodded thanks for the thoughts, and scurried off to redo their entire presentation. </p><p>She got on well with the lawyers. They were nice women, who didn’t care who or what she was. </p><p>The other woman in the breakfast room nodded, “Didn’t think you could keep quiet for too long. I could see the thoughts trying to get out.”</p><p>Anastasia grinned, “Well sooner or later someone would say it. They need to think of the financial side from the viewpoint of… but I won’t go over it all again.”</p><p>The Residence librarian nodded, “It’ll all end up written down somewhere. Time for me to go and check my shelves; someone is borrowing books in the night, and not putting them back in exactly the right places. I may have to install ultraviolet vidcams.”  She had a steely gleam in her eye. </p><p>To each her own. </p><p>No way to delay longer. Anastasia headed for her office, to find a message asking her to drop by the Empress’s office, at her convenience. </p><p>Cancel. Get to the comconsole and tell her you are sick. Dying. Dead. Allergic to coffee. </p><p>Laisa looked up and smiled, “Anastasia, come in!  Just in time, I have the finance committee in ten minutes.”</p><p>“About last night….”</p><p>“I hope you enjoyed it. Wasn’t it a pleasant night – all things considered.  I wanted to thank you for heading off that nasty argument.”</p><p>“Uh, thank you. It was easy. But I - ” </p><p>“Coffee this afternoon with a Cetagandan. Yes.”</p><p>Laisa gestured to a chair. Anastasia collapsed into it bonelessly, “I’m so sorry, I can’t think what I was – I wasn’t even drunk!  I just had so much fun, and it was nice to be the girl who could make a date – well, just a coffee meeting – and – I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Anastasia, I’m delighted, and We are delighted too. Things have been a bit awkward with the Cetas lately, and we need to send a message that Barrayar is beyond the backward, xenophobic state it used to be. And now the Empress’s assistant is going to take coffee in the main square with a Cetagandan. All very polite and friendly – you are just friendly, yes?”</p><p>“Oh, definitely yes. I mean, he’s good company but… no tingles. Just a nice guy. Coffee guy.”</p><p>“Good. Have coffee. Chat. Smile. Let the worlds see that we’re open to the future.”</p><p>“And what about the old Counts who think I’m passing on secrets?” </p><p>“What secrets do you know? The internal workings of the Floral Appreciation Society? Alys will make sure that the Countesses know that you aren’t part of any secrets. And she’ll hint that I’m behind all this, so they’ll think I’m devious and clever.”</p><p>“You’ll fool them into thinking you’re devious and clever by being devious and clever.”</p><p>“Don’t you just love Barrayar?”</p><p> </p><p>On the way back to her office, several corridors away from the Empress’s far more impressive suite of offices and conference rooms, Anastasia flagged down a passing armsman, “Oh Teskovic, good to see you!  Just a quick word – have a whisper to the Emperor when you can, and warn him that the librarian is on the warpath. She knows that someone goes in there at night and borrows books, and doesn’t put them back exactly where she had them. There may be cameras soon.”  </p><p>And then it was back to a busy day finding out why the Vorbarr Sultana Beautification Committee had, apparently, spent more than eleven thousand marks of their Imperial grant on the committee president’s home renovations. </p><p>Before she realised it, it was afternoon. Anastasia went for coffee in the Main Square. But she made a vidcall before she left. </p><p>He was there first, a true gentleman, pretending to ignore all the Barrayaran glares.  A Cetagandan in the Main Square!  Lurking!   The disapproval ramped up when Anastasia joined him. Corrupting Barrayaran maidens!</p><p>A few Counts huffed as they huddled over their coffee cups, “Not like the old days.”</p><p>“We would have had that painted head of his on a pole.”</p><p>“And that girl – playing with fire, she is. But according to Lady Alys…”  He looked around and leaned forward, telegraphing to the world that he was whispering secrets, “Alys says that this was organised by the Empress. Something to do with trade negotiations.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose one sacrifice is worth it if we get the treaty we want.  But still… drinking our coffee, corrupting our women… where will it end?”</p><p>Anastasia smiled at the corruptor, “I asked a friend to join us, I hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>“A chaperone? I’m familiar with the concept.”</p><p>“Not exactly.”</p><p>“Ah, here you are. Is this seat taken?”  A familiar voice as someone settled in at their table.</p><p>“Lord Beneres, I believe you’ve met Tev Kellen, from the Betan embassy?”</p><p>They glared. Then they stared. Then, slowly, they started talking.</p><p>By the second cup of coffee they were laughing, hands waving as they gestured to emphasise a point.</p><p>By the third cup, Anastasia felt like a very unwanted chaperone. “I’m sorry, my lord, gentle herm, but I have to get back to work. It was a very enjoyable afternoon, thank you.”  </p><p>She left them there, they barely noticed she’d gone. Well, she’d done her part for diplomatic relations. And diplomatic relationships. </p><p>Miles smiled as he sipped his coffee in a back corner of the café. He murmured into his wristcom, “Our little traitor is a fast learner. She’s just achieved all our goals while keeping herself out of trouble. Very nicely done.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. I do like to be beside the seaside...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxim's getting things done.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim was up at dawn. No point in wasting good sunlight. Kravik, who believed firmly that sensible people stayed in bed for several more hours, wondered yet again if it would really be such a terrible thing to drop one tiny sleeping pill in his officer’s evening coffee. </p><p>Half an hour later the new Count was on his way, blissfully free from supervision for a while. The lightflyer, so new it still had that new-flyer smell, flew like an angel. It had been Dimitry’s latest toy, but there were no thoughts about that now – don’t spoil a good day. </p><p>Beneath him, the land flew past. Maxim enjoyed the sun, the open sky, and being alone. He started dictating lists into his wristcom, sending himself reminder messages about things that needed to be done, and things that needed to be done before that, and people he had to meet or avoid.</p><p>Two and a half hours, not bad. A lot faster than the monorail. Not as cheap though, of course. </p><p>He set down on the roof of the District building in New Corinth. It had the catchy title of The New Corinth District Building. Vortaxians were obviously not great with naming things. </p><p>Oh bliss. A delegation to greet him. This wasn’t meant to be an official visit, but it was the first time their new Count had ever been to the District, so of course they’d want to impress him.</p><p>There was a moment of silence when he stepped out of the flyer, and then the group surged forward. </p><p>His first thought was, ‘If I die now, Kravik will kill me.’  He only had a stunner. Should he have been more heavily armed?</p><p>“My lord Count, welcome to your District!”  </p><p>They were smiling. </p><p>“My lord, it’s so good to see you here. Welcome. I am Cleon Savas, Mayor of New Corinth, and this is Spiro Pavlides, your Business Manager.”</p><p>After that was a blur of people, smiling faces and warm greetings. He realised after a time that they were genuine. And then he saw through to the fear underneath. Not fear of him, but fear that he’d fail. Hope can be a very cruel emotion, it’s so much more crushing when someone lets you down. They’d struggled for so long to survive, to keep their District together, while Ludo inexorably bled it dry.</p><p>It wasn’t even as if he was lavishing the money on anything. Dimitry had some pretty toys, like the lightflyer, but according to the accounts he wasn’t much more expensive than any other town clown. Far less grasping than some. And of course, for the last year or so he’d had another source of income. </p><p>No, Ludo had squeezed these people dry just for the sake of it, to build up fat bank accounts. Somehow, to him, big numbers meant that he was strong and successful. Maxim would rather have a lot less in the bank and a prosperous District, but for Ludo it was all about the numbers. Apparently he’d checked his accounts several times every day, watching gleefully as the money trickled in.  With all his obsessions, and his miserly nature, Maxim was certain that Ludo would never have been in the running for ‘sanest Count of the year’. Not even a runner-up. </p><p>Hopefully it wasn’t a result of the job. If he ever heard himself cackling gleefully, he’d have an armsman commit him to the nearest academy for the perpetually bewildered. </p><p>Not that there was a great deal of money, compared to some Districts. But it was Maxim’s job to Make Things Better. And he was face to face with the people who were waiting for that to happen.</p><p>“Gentlemen, thank you for the welcome. I’ve seen your last quarterly reports, so I won’t need to go through them right now. I want to get out and see what I have to work with. Pavlides, I’ll take you with me, I want to check out the mines first and you can tell me what I need to know on the way. Savas, I need armsmen. I’m hiring a few more people for Vortaxis House in the Capital, but my staff are taking care of that, they’ve contacted them and I’ll see them all at Glamis this afternoon. But what I really need right now are more armsmen. I want to start interviewing as soon as, so if you have any good candidates, round them up and send them along to Glamis this afternoon, too. This is just a flying visit, I’m afraid. I have to stay in the Capital for a little longer. I wanted to get a quick look at things today, but I’ll be back soon for a much more thorough visit.”</p><p>Disappointment, but they were expecting it. </p><p>“What do you need here?”</p><p>“Jobs.”  Savas was prompt, and sure. “We need businesses, factories, all of it. We get tourists to the coast in the summer, and there’s the mines, but everything else is struggling.”</p><p>“Right. Get together everything you have about the refineries, and the factories we used to have. Products we used to make here. And customers, business partners. Have it ready for me when I get back.”</p><p>It was a full day, but as Maxim flew home he had plenty to think about: </p><p>The men running his District for him were honest, and really cared for the place, and the people.</p><p>The mines were doing well, and the refineries were in good condition and had been kept in a reasonable state. It wouldn’t take too much to start them up again. </p><p>The tourist industry was a great earner, making good use of the monorail. </p><p>There was good farmland, but not enough being done with it. </p><p>He needed to investigate the ore contracts, and why he was selling so little, at such low prices. </p><p>He needed a good accountant. </p><p>He had a hundred things to do, and every one of them was the most urgent. And no time to get them done. </p><p>Not much different to being in the military, really. Too much to do, not enough time, and someone out there was gunning for you.</p><p>On the other hand, he had a lightflyer full of passengers, heading back to Vorbarr Sultana. The new Sous Chef was sitting beside him in the front compartment, torn between excitement and embarrassment, while there was a housemaid, a laundry maid, a scullery maid and a kitchen maid in the main compartment. Their luggage took up far too little space. He was used to travelling the Nexus with just a kitbag, but these people were moving to another city, possibly for years. His sisters packed more to go to the beach for a day than these poor girls had for a lifetime. </p><p>There were two gardeners and a Boy – son of one of the gardeners – heading to the city tomorrow on the early morning monorail And seven likely armsman candidates would be with them. He already knew two of the men, ex-military men he’d commanded in the past. Three more were recommended by his District Manager, good men who’d served their twenty. Another one was the grandson of a retired armsman, the man that Gorlov had mentioned to him – he seemed so proud to be accepted. The last man was younger, he’d left the military after ten years to come home and support his widowed mother. All were well trained, loyal, and hopeful of serving the new Count. He’d put them all on a month’s trial, see how they fit in with the others. His House was filling up. </p><p>When they got to Vorbarr Sultana Maxim did a few circuits of the city, to give his passengers a good look at it all, then headed for home.</p><p>But it wasn’t there.</p><p>Someone had stolen his ugly grey stone box, and left a beautiful golden-yellow stone castle in its place. With glittering, perfectly clean windows and colourful little garden beds spaced around the courtyard. There was still a network of scaffolding over the roof, obviously repairs were under way.  And in the centre of the courtyard… a perfect, clean white marble fountain – a wide, shallow pool supporting a sculpture that swirled up out of the waters, a playful mermaid surrounded by dolphins, and various ecologically unlikely fish. Stone waves merged with the splashing water from a fountain that sprang up around her. Maxim just stood and stared until - </p><p>“Uncle Maxim!”</p><p>“Uncie Maxi!” </p><p>Two small bodies cannoned into him, holding his knees hostage. </p><p>“Stavros!  Thaddeus!  Don’t knock your uncle into the fountain!  On second thoughts, have at it, boys!”</p><p>“Ah Verity, still as sweet and gentle as ever.”  Maxim managed to hug his sister over the top of two excited small boys, and the baby in her arms. “And this is your newest one – Dominique, is it? She looks… blobby, but I’m sure she’ll improve.”</p><p>A curly-haired toddler, determined not to be left out, jumped up and down in the doorway, “Maxi!  Maxi!”</p><p>Maxim struggled free, picked up one nephew and pretended to toss him into the fountain, then grabbed a boy under each arm and ran up the steps to the doorway, “And is this Ariadne? You’ve got BIG!  Look at you, walking and everything!”</p><p>The housekeeper slipped out of a side door and shepherded the new arrivals towards the servants’ hall. Barlow took charge of the lightflyer, and a nanny started to herd the children away. “Let your uncle catch his breath, my goodness what a noise!”</p><p>“Where’s Mother?”</p><p>“Exploring her new studio.  She’s deciding where everything will go, and the men are going to set it up for her tomorrow. That was a brilliant idea, she’s talking about staying longer to enjoy it. And Maxim – seriously, thank you. It’s not cheap to live in Vorbarr Sultana, and-” </p><p>“Stop whittering on. I’m making you work for your bed and board. Have you organised the family party yet?”</p><p>“Maxim!  I’ve barely had time to unpack everything, and get the children organised, and see Mother settled comfortably, and find my way around this labyrinth of a house, and all the time it was swarming with workmen and gardeners and some odd noises in the cellar that I hope were the men installing the new heating system. When have I had time!”</p><p>“Verity-“</p><p>“Twenty-three definites, seven more possibles, I’m still trying to track down a dozen others, and Uncle Valery is going to have your hide if Petros or Oncle Abelard don’t get it first. You really do have a way with people. Also seven people who said they were Counts or Counts-secretaries called to invite you to things, a few very forceful women want to introduce you to their daughters or grand-daughters, and someone wants to know your views on banning replicators and returning to a better, more natural time. I told him – well, never mind what I told him. I’ve had a session with your cook – a marvellous woman, don’t lose her – and we’ve sorted out the menu for the family dinner. And a chat with the housekeeper about the table settings and all the other details that you have no idea about and won’t even notice. Thank goodness that massive courtyard means no parking problems, that’s one thing less to worry about. Your prospective armsmen have cleared Gruncle Ludo’s stuff out, and Dimitry’s, and left a pile of data chips and some weird things on your desk in the study for you to check through. Your man Kravik has bought you a whole new wardrobe of respectable civilian clothes. There’s someone waiting to see you in the small reception room just over there, be nice to him. The Emperor called, I told him you were busy.  Oh, and Yvgeny is here. I think he’s moving in. He seems to think that this is our family home now.”</p><p>Go for the most important thing first. “What is Yvgeny doing here? Where is he?”</p><p>“No idea, and no idea. He apparently drifted in when Oncle Abelard came to measure something in the North Wing. He had a happy meltdown about the artworks in the Long Gallery, then he found the library and was making quiet hooting noises in the stacks somewhere the last time I saw him. We could probably leave him there for a week.”</p><p>“Hang on – no don’t leave!”  Verity was walking away, “Wait – the Emperor? What do you mean – someone from the Residence?”</p><p>“Yes, someone from the Residence who was called Emperor Gregor. He’s very sweet, I have to say, although slightly scary at the same time. But I’m used to men like that. I told him you were in the District for the day and he asked you to call back when you got home. No rush.”</p><p>Family – this is why people take jobs that send them out into the Nexus for six months at a time. </p><p>“Go and see that poor man in the small reception room. That’s something you can do right away. I’ll tell Mother you’re home, and ask the cook to feed you. We ate earlier, we weren’t sure when you’d get back.”</p><p>Verity somehow combined Maxim’s ruthless organisational skills with Yvgeny’s gentle view of the world. Or she was incredibly sneaky and even more ruthless than Maxim himself – he’d never been sure, and was too scared to find out. But Maxim knew what onshore wives were paid while their husbands were off planet. And with four young children she couldn’t go out to work, Vorbarr Sultana rents were high, she had school fees for the boys – his invitation was a godsend to her. And she’d be a brilliant social secretary and still be with her children every day. Win-win for everyone except people who irritated her on the comconsole. So long as that wasn’t the Emperor, it was all ok. </p><p>He turned obediently to the small room that opened off the side of the entrance hall. The servants had perfect social antennae: this room was for messengers, salesmen, and other callers who weren’t ‘proper’ visitors. Servants tended to be bigger snobs than their employers, but then they often had to be. He hoped the new ones were settling in ok, he’d get down to check as soon as he dealt with a few minor problems. Oh, and he had to call the Emperor. Was this was a Count’s life was like? </p><p>A young man, a few years short of thirty, stood up quickly when Maxim strode into the room. “My lord Count. Sir.”</p><p>“Yes. And you are…?”</p><p>“Odysseus Panagiotis, sir.”</p><p>“And why are you here, Panagiotis?”</p><p>“I was cashiered from the military, sir.”</p><p>Maxim sighed and sat down, “Take a seat, Panagiotis. And tell me the whole story in one piece.”</p><p>The young man gulped, then started, “I’ve served with your brother sir, Major Ivor Vortaxis. He’s a very good man. I’m from Vortaxis District, so I remembered him, and – and I heard the news about you being the new Count. So I came here.”</p><p>“So what do you want me to do for you?”</p><p>“Your brother is a good soldier and a good man. They say that you are too. I – I was hoping – I wanted to ask – ” A deep breath, and then the words came out with a rush, “If I could be an armsman for you, my lord. I’d serve you to my last breath and blood.”</p><p>“You promised to serve the military. Why did they dispense with your services?”</p><p>“I shot a Cetagandan, my lord.”</p><p>“That’s not so bad. I’ve done the same myself.”</p><p>“We weren’t at war with this one at the time.”</p><p>“Slight tactical error, then.”</p><p>“We were on Beta, and – I was on guard duty at the Embassy, it was a big reception, all the bigwigs where there – sorry sir, the important people – and this Cetagandan came in alone, after the rest of their bunch, and I wasn’t sure of his credentials but the lieutenant said it was ok. But – I wasn’t sure, and I watched him, and I saw him start to draw a weapon – it wasn’t an energy weapon, we’d have pinged that. It was a hand-sized crossbow, of all things. Single bolt, but it could be deadly. He was fixed on the Marilacan Consul – they don’t have a full embassy on Beta, just a Consul – but that doesn’t matter. He zeroed in on the Consul, he had this little thing in his hand, he was turned a bit so nobody could see as he aimed it – so I shot him.”</p><p>“Stunner?”</p><p>“Yes, sir, but as he fell the crossbow fired. It hit him. Head shot. No chance of revival.”</p><p>“I fail to see how any of this was your fault.”</p><p>“Well, he was a nephew of their Ambassador. Crazy, but still a blood relative. So the Cetas where pis- I mean angry. And our Ambassador was pis- I mean angry that he’d got in with a weapon and fake ID, so he chewed out the Security chief. And the SecChief went after the Lieutenant, and the Lieutenant blamed me, and I called him a lying hound and hit him.”</p><p>“A drop of FastPenta would have sorted it all out.”</p><p>“It did, and the Louie lost his jacket too. He was sent home on the same ship as me, but they kept us apart. The thing was, he was bounced for failure in duty, and lying about it. I was bounced for hitting him. Plus the Cetas were pressuring for my blood, and I think the Ambassador wanted to get me out of there.”</p><p>“Hitting the lying Louie was surely excusable. Losing a few week’s pay maybe…”</p><p>“He was a Vor. High Vor. Grandson of a Count.”</p><p>“Ah. Bad target. Which Count?”</p><p>“Vormoncrief.”</p><p>“And you still want to serve a Count?”</p><p>“You have honour. And… I want to do something… something that matters. I want to serve, to…”</p><p>“You want to matter. To make a difference. To stand on the line between order and chaos, and protect the ones who can’t protect themselves.”</p><p>“….yes, my lord.”</p><p>“I have four men here who are doing a month’s service to see if they wish to serve me. I’ve just brought seven more in. You’ll make twelve – a good start on my score. I expect hard work, fast thinking, and someone who’ll do whatever is needed – bodyguard one day, babysitting the next.”</p><p>“My lord – anything. Please.”</p><p>“I’ll pay you for the month you work.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir. I had my service payout, and it was doubled – I think someone higher up had a hand in that. The Betans offered me citizenship there, but it wasn’t home. So they gave me a heavy credit chip. I went home and paid off the mortgage on the family farm. My brother is happy to work there, but I wanted more, and when I heard about you – I spent my last credits on the rail fare.”</p><p>Maxim felt like he was adopting a puppy. But the man was young, fit, trained, and loyal. Qualities of a good dog, or armsman. “Fine. Wait here and I’ll send someone to get you. You didn’t see a vague man who looks a lot like me wander past in the last hour or so, did you?”</p><p>“No sir.”</p><p>“If you see him, tie him to a chair.”</p><p>He’d been in this house for one day, and it was already a madhouse. And he still had to call the Emperor.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Behind Bars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A bonus chapter - not sure if I can post tomorrow.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m sending you to prison.”  Laisa nibbled a cream cake delicately.</p><p>Anastasia froze as she reached for a fruit tart, “Uh, if it’s about the comconsole, I’m really sorry about the coffee. But the tech says it’ll be good as new when he replaces a few bits….”</p><p>Laisa sat back and gazed at her.</p><p>“…or if it’s about leaving work early yesterday, I had to get new shoes, I just about danced the last pair to pieces, and that’s actually work-related…”</p><p>No reply.</p><p>“….the muffin crumbs in my room? I know we’re not supposed to take food into the bedrooms, but the maid said it was ok…”</p><p>“Anything else?”</p><p>“No. I think I’d better stop talking now.”</p><p>“Always a good plan. Now, prison. I’m sending you because it’s your fault.”</p><p>“Uh… still not talking. Just listening.”</p><p>“Because I claimed that women, especially Vor women, are my purview, I keep getting requests for help from women who are in trouble. Mostly it’s just begging letters, and I refer them on to charitable organisations. Or get them a job. But this is different. She’s facing charges for serious embezzlement, fraud, tax avoidance, and whatever else they can pile onto her. And she did everything they claim. And she admits that. But there’s some confusion over the record-keeping, and a strong suspicion that someone else is behind it all. She’s on remand, she couldn’t even get bail. She’s being sentenced in a few days. I don’t have the time right now, the finance committee is gearing up to put several requests to the CoC, and I’m knee-deep in it all, but having established the precedent I can’t just ignore her. So I’m giving this one to you. I think she was used, without realising it. Anyway, go there and get a feel for the case. You can have an armsman.”</p><p>Anastasia shivered as she walked in to the prison. She’d seen all those vids – the ones where some doctor, or lawyer, goes in to see a prisoner and then there’s a prison riot and the visitors are taken hostage. This was how it started, walking in and waiting in a visiting room. The armsman loomed behind her reassuringly. When the rioters came through the door, she was taking shelter behind him. He could probably take down a prison full of rioters singlehanded anyway.</p><p>A prison guard, solid in her dark-grey uniform, brought in a nervous, crushed-looking middle-aged woman wearing prison yellow – they’d apparently chosen the harshest, least flattering shade possible. She looked as if life had sat on her, hard. </p><p>“Martine Vorennier?  I’m Anastasia Vortaxis. The Empress sent me to speak with you.”</p><p>“You’re that girl. The one the Empress saved. You did it, but she saved you. I don’t deny that I did what they said, but – But I didn’t mean to!  Please - ”  She tried to reach for Anastasia’s hand, but warning growls from the warden and the armsman set her back again. “Please – my children need me. They’re staying with my mother but she just has her pension, and it doesn’t stretch far. I’ve supported us all since Emil died, I’ve done everything I can. But nobody can help me, nobody will try, or listen.”</p><p>“You did transfer those funds. Several times.”</p><p>“Yes. I thought – it was supposed to be –“</p><p>“You knew it was an illegal move, to avoid tax.”</p><p>“Ok, yes, but I thought – all businesses minimise tax. I thought it was just standard procedure. He promoted me, I was so happy, I was finally earning good money, and he gave me more responsibility, and…”</p><p>When a woman is in trouble, 99% of the time her explanation starts with …’there was this man….’  In this case not, apparently, a romantic relationship. But her boss had used her, knowing her struggles to support a family.</p><p>“Tell me again, in detail. Where did those funds come from, and where were they moved?”</p><p>It took a while, but finally Anastasia had all the details she could squeeze out of Martine. The boss had vanished. The money was gone. All that was left was Martine and a damning money trail that dried up when the mysterious boss vanished into thin air. </p><p>Anastasia looked at the warden, “I’ll need an office, and a comconsole, please. And later I’ll need Madame Vorennier again.”</p><p>It was late evening before Anastasia finally made it back to the Residence. On the bright side, nobody had taken her hostage. But she’d been too busy for a meal break. She thanked her borrowed armsman, and apologised for the starvation.</p><p>“No problem, Mam’selle. I’ve had worse days. At least nobody was shooting at us.”  </p><p>He must have watched the same vids as Anastasia. </p><p>All she wanted was to eat a nice warm meal, shower the prison away, and eat another meal. Then fall into her lovely soft bed. </p><p>A new armsman loomed up – she wondered if there were special looming lessons for them. They certainly had a presence. </p><p>“Mademoiselle Vortaxis, could you follow me please.”</p><p>There’d better be food at the end of this corridor.  She pattered along behind him. </p><p>And yes, there was food. It was on a table, with a place ready for her. A lovely meal – and good company too. The best. Imperial. Both of them. </p><p>How do you eat in front of an Emperor? Is that even allowed?</p><p>The Imperial couple each had coffee, and some small sweet confections to nibble on, so that she didn’t feel so embarrassed. Laisa chatted to Gregor about her day, the latest brainwaves from the finance committee, “Honestly, I think some of them don’t even know how to count past twenty!” Gregor was quiet – he was always quiet – but seemed a little more relaxed. </p><p>Anastasia had survived any number of fundraising dinners, university banquets, and formal entertainments at Vorsmythe House. (Grandam made sure she could hold her own at any High Vor entertainment, although Anastasia had decided to take university instead of a Season as a Vor bud in Vorbarr Sultana. “Manners will carry you through any situation”  according to Grandam. Anastasia sent her a few fond thoughts, in gratitude.)  </p><p>Finally they turned the Imperial gaze on Anastasia, “We were wondering about Madame Vorennier. Can anything be done for her?”</p><p>“She admits to juggling funds around, sire, but it seemed to her to be no more than most businesses do – shuffling things a bit before tax assessments. Her problem is that the boss has disappeared, the business has folded, the  money has vanished, and her name is on everything.”</p><p>“She’s a widow with children to support, and an aged mother – perhaps we can help the children, at least. She’ll be behind bars for quite a while, according to the prosecutor. She’s the only one left to take the blame for everything, and they’ve been cracking down on cases like this.”  Laisa glanced at Gregor, “I feel responsible. I’m the one who’s been preaching fiscal responsibility, and chasing up some of those committees and lawyers to enforce high standards in business and industry. But I didn’t want to put people like Martine Vorennier behind bars – she’s the end link in the chain, I was after the men at the top.”</p><p>Anastasia nodded, “Her boss had covered his tracks very well indeed. It was an almost perfect plan; set up the business, apply for all manner of government grants, borrow from several banks, move the money around so that things seemed to be prosperous, meetings with a few big clients, all very impressive. Then when the inspectors started sniffing around, he’d gone, the money had gone, and Martine’s name was on all the transfers.”</p><p>“I suppose I could…”</p><p>The Emperor shook his head, “You can’t pardon everyone. Madamoiselle Vortaxis was a special case – she earned every thanks we can give her.” He gave her one of his rare smiles, “But with Madam Vorennier it’s more difficult to justify interference. And it’s an extremely bad precedent to establish.”</p><p>“I suppose… so what can we do now?”</p><p>Anastasia finished a mouthful of  tender chicken, coated with a delectable sauce, “We don’t have to do anything now. I’ve done it.”</p><p>Imperial silence for a moment, then “Done what?”  In a warning tone. </p><p>Oh sweet spirits, have I done the wrong thing? </p><p>“Well, she gave me all the codes for the accounts. So I commandeered a comconsole – it was faster than coming all the way back here – and I just explored a bit. Followed a few faint trails – they’re always there when you know how to look. People never think of everything. So I tracked the money. And I found it.”</p><p>Laisa was leaning forward, eyes gleaming. This was better than a vid. “Found it? Will the banks and the grant authorities be able to get it back?”</p><p>“Most of it. In fact, it’s already done. I moved it back this afternoon. Oh, and I found out that slimy boss’s real name. The Municipal Guard arrested him about an hour ago – he hadn’t even left the city. I tracked down his accomplices, too – from what I could see he’d pulled that stunt several times, him and his fake clients. I’ve identified three other women who were used by him. Appeals have been laid for the release of the women he set up as innocent accomplices, now that the ringleader has been identified – their sentences were so much worse because the boss, and the money, was gone. Madame Vorennier hadn’t been sentenced, of course, so I had a word with the prosecutor and she had a word with the judge, and the case was settled as time served. The prosecutor will sort out the other women tomorrow, we ran out of time.”</p><p>Her listeners seemed to be struck dumb, so she kept on – the sooner the report was done, the sooner she could finish this lovely meal, and get to that nice hot bath she’d promised herself.</p><p>“Madame Vorennier was released, so we took her home to her children. Her mother was being menaced by their landlord when we arrived – and thank you for the armsman, they do come in handy. My lady, you gave me a very generous clothing allowance, and I’ve only spent half of it. I have more than enough clothes to mix and match my way through the rest of the Season, so I paid off their back rent. And I made a few calls, tomorrow Martine starts a job at the university. It’s only low-level office work, but it’ll keep her going for now.”</p><p>“Is that all?”  The Emperor’s voice was very quiet.</p><p>“Um.. yes, I think so, Sire.” Had she missed something?  She’d sorted out the case, just like Laisa asked. </p><p>“Mademoiselle, you had no legal authority to remove funds from any account, no matter what proof you thought you had. This will cause huge legal problems, and the offenders may go free. You’ve disrupted legal processes. You should have presented your evidence to the authorities, and let them take the appropriate steps.”</p><p>Anastasia stared at him for a moment, as his words seemed to echo in the quiet room.</p><p>Laisa was almost in tears, “Gregor – what can we do? Can we fix this? Will Madame Vorennier have any more problems because of it?”</p><p>“It will be a very difficult tangle, the legal arguments will probably run on for months. And We have to avoid actions that are high-handed and that over-ride proper legal processes. We can’t shatter Our system, things must be done through the proper authority.”</p><p>“But… I AM the proper authority, Sire.”</p><p>“Working for the Empress doesn’t give you any special authority in cases like this.”  There was almost a snap in his voice.</p><p>“No, Sire, but when the Empress employed me I signed a whole series of documents. I was given full authority to take ‘any and all necessary steps to investigate financial matters within this District, and if necessary the rest of Barrayar’. That was the exact words. ‘And to resolve any legal issues, working with oversight from the Prosecutor’s Office as required.’ Particularly when government funds were involved, and in this case there were a number of government grants given to the fake business. And full legal authority to deal with anyone concerned with financial dealings that were under my investigation. And to ensure that justice was served on those issues.”</p><p>Laisa gave a shocked giggle, “But that was so that you could sort out the Floral Appreciation Society, and the Animal Cruelty committee, and all the rest of them.”</p><p>“It doesn’t actually specify that in the documents I signed, my lady. I checked carefully when I started the investigation. I did liaise with the Prosecutor’s office, they were very supportive throughout. I showed them copies of the docs on the comconsole, they were satisfied with the legal side of it all. And – and I did serve justice. The ones who ran the scam and took the money are under arrest, and now the ones who were tricked, and who took the fall for it all, can get on with their lives. Justice.”</p><p>Gregor was still and silent for a worryingly long time, and then he sighed, “Laisa, you have your own Auditor, it seems.”</p><p>After that the conversation was much more comfortable. Anastasia managed to finish a very good meal, chat politely with the two most powerful people in the Empire, and at last, finally, eventually, get back to her own chambers and sink into that beautiful bath. With bubbles. She’d earned bubbles. </p><p>She dreamed of the prison that night. She was letting all the prisoners out, and buying them new clothes that weren’t yellow. A most understandable dream after the day she’d had. </p><p>She wasn’t sure about the dark green cloud in the background, or the talking watering can, or the apple tree that kept following her around. Sometimes it’s best not to look into your subconscious too deeply.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. My knees are not for public viewing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One of my favourite chapters so far. </p><p>Rose, I blame you for this one!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On his second morning in the House Maxim had to deal with family at the breakfast table. It was a working breakfast with his sister, to sort out what horrors lay ahead for the day. Their mother joined them, delighted to have some of her children at hand. She was still thanking him for the studio, and making plans for a whole series of works on Vorbarr Sultana.</p><p>Maxim nodded to Verity, “Start looking for galleries. Anywhere suitable for her new showing. Anywhere but here, this place is going to be too busy.”</p><p>Verity sipped her coffee, she’d already had an early breakfast with the children, but was happy to take a break to recover from the joys of parenthood while their nanny finished up, “I’ll add it to my list. I have to see the boys off for school first, Stavros is at the Prince Xav Preparatory School. And Thaddeus is going to their Pre-Prep three days a week now. One of your pre-armsmen can take them.”</p><p>“Send two – the new ones from the District need to get about with some of the experienced hands, to learn the ropes and the city.”</p><p>“Fine. Oh, and about that – I’ve ordered two dozen pairs of black pants, and three dozen dark green, long-sleeved shirts. The ex-armsmen are a bit twitchy about not being in uniform, and it’s a good idea for them to look rather official when they’re working. Besides, some of the District ones really don’t have suitable city clothes, poor things.  I measured them all before breakfast, and put the orders in. The stuff should be arriving any minute.”</p><p>A shadow crossed the room as a workman floated past the window,  angling his liftbelt to float up to the roof. </p><p>“Have a chat with Petros, he’s making a play area beside the South Wing when he’s finished the main garden. Ball court, open grassy area, sandpits, gardens, climbing things, swings, and whatever else your grommits would like.”</p><p>His mother nodded, “Just make a list of all the things you children broke arms and legs on. Those were the ones you all liked the best.”</p><p>Verity smiled at her, then went on, “I’m not accepting any invitations for you yet. Or giving any hints of your political views – that’s easy, because you don’t have any.”</p><p>“And fend off the matchmaking mamas, too.”</p><p>“That’s also easy. I’ll tell them you like boys.”</p><p>“Verity, you are a most inappropriate person to be raising children. You’re a Count’s sister now, you have to lift your standards.”</p><p>“Speaking of high standards, what did the Emperor want? I hope you remembered to call him back.”</p><p>Maxim sighed, he’d never imagined that forgetting to call the Emperor back would be something he’d have to worry about. “No, I did not forget to call the Emperor of Three Worlds. He just wanted to check that I was – well, still alive, I think. Not running away. And to make sure I wasn’t going to fall for the first political party that whispered sweet nothings in my ear. And to reassure me that things aren’t as bad as they seem.”</p><p>“And are they?”</p><p>“In the District, worse. But all that’s fixable. Ludo wasn’t just a bit of a miser, he was batshit crazy.”</p><p>“Maxim!  No bad language at the breakfast table!  You know the rules.”</p><p>“We’re still under nursery rules, Mother?”</p><p>Their mother looked up from the newsfeed she was watching on her wristcom, “Neither of you have graduated from the nursery. Behave yourselves, you’ll shock the staff. Their standards are much higher than yours.”</p><p>“Apologies, dear Mother. My sister will do her best to behave as a proper Vor matron should - Hey!  No throwing the bread rolls!”</p><p>After the combatants settled down they sipped their coffee in a suitably adult and civilised fashion.</p><p>“So what are you doing today, brother dear? Lazing around being a Count?”</p><p>“I have some meetings lined up, I made a few calls on the way home. Probably won’t be home for lunch, but I’ll do you the honour of dining with you tonight.”</p><p>“Lovely – the children will enjoy that. I’ll hold down the fort here. I need to go over the accounts with the housekeeper, sort out the food orders with the cook, and track down a few more relatives for this family dinner of yours. Oh, speaking of missing relatives, do you want to invite our Vortaxis cousin from the other side? Shall we meet with poor Anastasia? Rodan’s met her a few times, but I’ve never set eyes on her. He said she’s quite nice. She did wonders with the Fine Arts Academy.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know her from a bar of soap. No, I think it’s best to keep a polite distance. Don’t want her to think we’re trying to embarrass her. This was her childhood home, until the accident. Must hold some sad memories. Besides, there’s more than enough cousins already.”</p><p>They went their separate ways after breakfast. Maxim had that gleam in his eye; the men he served with would have recognised it. </p><p>“Plotting something, I see,”  Kravik claimed his place at his officer’s side.</p><p>“Kravik, I’ll take some of the others with me today. I have to get to know them – I already know more than enough about you. Spend the day sorting out your release from the military. Then make some calls, I know there won’t be anyone from the ship back here on Barrayar yet, but I’m sure there’s plenty of others that you served with. Rustle up a few drinking buddies and have a night on the town.”</p><p>“There are a few old mates who live around the Capital. Thank you, sir, I’ll do that. I’ll sound them out about the Counts, and the city – get myself up to speed on the gossip.”</p><p>A credit chip slid from Maxim to Kravik without either man acknowledging it. By tomorrow Kravik would have a network of contacts, and know all the latest and most important gossip about the life and politics of the city. And a roaring hangover, too, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made. </p><p>Maxim terrified his staff by appearing in the kitchens – he made a mental note to send for his armsmen in future, instead of invading their territory. Tasks were shared around, orders snapped out crisply but in good humour. “Gorlov and Panagiotis, I’ll have you two with me today. I have a few calls to make first, so you’ll have time to get your nice new shirts from Madame Vorventa. See me in the entrance hall in half an hour.”</p><p>Maxim’s people were learning that they’d have to move fast, and promptly, to keep up with him. </p><p>A few days whirled past, full of meetings, decisions, and running desperately to get up to speed on everything. They were all on a steep learning curve.</p><p>Despite their loud complaints, Maxim’s uncle and cousin had the house and gardens looking superb for the big family dinner. The Vortaxis clan didn’t congregate in force too often, it was hard to organise them all and to minimise the damage. And quite a few of the military relatives were off planet. But even so, they ended up with almost forty people – aunts, uncles and cousins, wives and husbands. Some of the cousins had children who’d reached the happy teenage years, so the more senior of the youngest generation were there, too. Even the teenagers had to admit that they were impressed by the place. Maxim used his prospective armsmen as impromptu tour guides, sending groups of excited relatives off to see the delights of mysterious, forbidden Vortaxis House. Otherwise he’d be finding lost relatives for weeks. Fortunately he’d ordered the men to familiarise themselves with the territory over the last few days. </p><p>Maxim waited for them all, relaxing in the large, formal Drawing Room. You didn’t draw there – according to his sister, who’d been doing research in her spare time, it was actually a ‘withdrawing room’, where you withdrew from, apparently, all the other rooms. The house really did look impressive, inside and out. He’d discovered only that morning that what he’d been calling the entrance hall was actually known as the Great Hall. It had been a dark, dingy chamber before,  but now it was glorious. The double front doors opened onto a large space, two storeys high, with a white marble floor. A few lounges and soft chairs were scattered about for anyone who didn’t have the strength to get all the way to the next room without stopping for a rest half-way. There were galleries each side from the floor above, and a massive, beautiful timber staircase that led up to a landing against the far wall before splitting to the galleries each side. And above the landing was the most beautiful, huge, stained-glass window he’d ever seen. Not that he’d seen many, of course. For some reason they were a rarity in space vessels. His mother had recognised the artist, and tried to educate him about it, but all he cared was that the light streamed through, turning the Great Hall into a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns. Amazing the difference a good cleaning crew can make. It was the perfect introduction to the House, the visitors assembled there before being dispatched to the far corners to explore.</p><p>Dinner in the Grand Dining Room was a resounding success. There were enough compliments to the cook to keep Ma Kennerli on a rosy cloud for days. The family behaved well – which meant there were no food fights. Maxim looked around; military, sciences, medicine, commerce, government, construction, various businesses, education, the arts, and more - his family covered just about every aspect of life in the Capital. Good. The Counts thought he was an innocent novice, easy to sway, with no strong political ideals. But no matter what question came up, he’d have a relative who could give him the low-down.  He realised how much he’d missed them all. He was so fortunate; he really did like his relatives. They’d argue endlessly with each other, but close ranks against the world, and protect each other no matter what. Yes, this was going to work out fine.  </p><p>The family verdict was that Vortaxis House was glorious, Maxim was very fortunate, and his new job was going to be… interesting. </p><p>A few more days of business meetings,  avoiding overtures from various political factions, another quick run to the District, and then it was The Day.</p><p>Maxim woke to see Kravik standing beside the bed, with a tray. “Coffee and fruit toasts, my lord Count. You’ll need a light breakfast before you face the day.”</p><p>He groaned and rolled out of bed. Today was it. Oath Day. No going back now. He was, technically, already a Count, but today he gave his Oath to the Emperor, and to  Barrayar. Coffee first. Life begins with coffee.</p><p>“Your formal House uniform arrived yesterday, and the banner has already been sent to Vorhartung Castle. Thistle and myrtle is your house crest. The silver design of your lady mother’s looks very impressive on the Hunter Green. Your mother did a wonderful job with your uniform, too; it’s a full traditional outfit, no doubt about that, but with that special artistic touch that makes it so… so sophisticated. You’ll certainly turn heads.”</p><p>“Just lay it all out on the bed for me. I’ll hit the shower first.”</p><p>After his shower, feeling squeaky clean and fresh, he studied the new uniform. This is what he was going to wear for every important occasion. For the rest of his life.</p><p>Due to family issues and the way that Ludo avoided social life in the Capital; lurking for most of the time in Vortaxis House, occasionally turning up at the Council of Counts, and then entertaining his Vor friends and business partners in the District – and the fact that Ludo was a jealous sociopath – Bors’s descendants had kept well away from the District, and from anything to do with the Vortaxis history and traditions. Maxim had gone from school to the Academy, and then various assignments in the Nexus, with only short visits home. He’d never even seen old Count Ludo, never tried to and never wanted to. He knew the House colours, but not much else about things Vortaxis. </p><p>The jacket looked good, the dark Hunter Green was far better than some District colours. Possibly a few of the first Counts were colour blind. Or, more likely, they picked colours that would show up on the battlefield.  He faced a new battlefield now; Hunter Green and silver – that would do him just fine. The jacket had gleaming silver embroidery around the shoulders and down the front, with more running from the wrists almost to the elbows. Loops and swirls that somehow looked strong, and impressive. The tailor had used a thread that seemed to have an extra gleam to it, shimmering in the light. Silver buttons down the front of the jacket, and at the cuffs. The jacket didn’t look quite as long as he expected, it came to the waist, obviously fitted, and then had a short section below. But maybe that was the current fashion. Kravik had already assembled all of Maxim’s medals, and placed them on the jacket in the correct order. Good idea; remind the Counts that he’d served, with honour, in some tight spots. He wasn’t some dewy-eyed innocent.  </p><p>Those medals; he hadn’t realised there were quite so many of them. He touched each one gently, remembering the blood they cost, his and others. The lives. In his last career, his decisions were life or death. It was no different now, you just didn’t see the suffering, there were far more people in the game, and you didn’t get pretty medals if you got it right.  </p><p>He stepped back and nodded. This was just another game; get it right or pay the penalty. Worse, get it right or other people pay. Time to put on his new uniform, for a different kind of service. </p><p>The pants… that’s odd. Some kind of pattern… </p><p>“Kravik!”</p><p>“Right here, my lord Count. Waiting to help with your new uniform.”</p><p>“What’s with the pattern? Patterned pants? What’s that about?”</p><p>“Not patterned, exactly, sir. That’s tartan. Your traditional tartan.”</p><p>It was large checks of dark green and blue, with fine lines of white and – yes, red – crossing them. </p><p>“Kravik, I’m not sure – ”</p><p>“Here we go, sir. Let’s get you dressed. Shirt – lovely, isn’t it. Silk, of course.”</p><p>“Wait, that’s got lace on it. Kravik, that’s a girl shirt!  I’m not wearing frills!”</p><p>“Just the most restrained touch of lace at throat and wrists, sir. Traditional. Here we go, that’s it – see? Perfect fit. Now the socks.”</p><p>“They’re patterned too. And they come up to my knees. Long socks – I’m not a schoolgirl!”</p><p>“Tartan, sir. And the socks are traditional. Now, here we go.”</p><p>“Kravik, what the HELL is this!”</p><p>“Your kilt, sir. The traditional uniform of Vortaxis counts. It was all in the file you sent your mother, sir. And the old Count wore the kilt as part of his House uniform, almost every day of his life. People will be so pleased to see that you’re keeping the old traditions. The armsmen were worried that you’d change it. But I told them, 'No, don’t you worry, our Count knows how to do things properly.' ”</p><p>Maxim wasn’t able to speak for a few moments. Then a few moments more. Finally he sighed, “This isn’t a joke, is it.”</p><p>Kravik was serious, all the joking mannerisms dropping away, “No, sir. It really means a lot to them. The people in your District are proud of this special uniform. They’ll love you for keeping the kilt. It sends a message.”</p><p>“The message is, here’s my knees on display. Ok, ok, keep going. What horror is next?”</p><p>“The belt, sir, and this.”</p><p>“A purse. I’m going to carry a fur purse.”</p><p>“Your sporran sir. You have it at the front, like this.”</p><p>“It has tassels on it.”</p><p>“Of course. This is your formal sporran.”</p><p>“I’m wearing a cat.”</p><p>“You will have your little joke, sir. We’ll just slip your jacket on. There. Perfect fit. Shake out the lace at your wrists a little – yes – and at your throat. Perfect. Now the boots, yes, they just go to the ankle. I’ll get them done up, shall I? Hobnails, they used to be called. Funny, because there’s no nails in them now.”</p><p>“They seem pretty solid.”</p><p>“Steel toe caps, sir. You could fight off an old-fashioned tank in those.”</p><p>“That’s going to make me popular on the dance floor, I’ll be trampling on my partners right, left and centre.”</p><p>“Oh, these aren’t for dancing, sir. For evening engagements you’ll have your other shoes. Very nice, soft black leather, with silver buckles.”</p><p>“Suddenly I like these ones better. But look, Kravik, my kilt is flapping open. This will never work.”</p><p>“Here’s your kilt pin, sir. There we are, safely together. There’ll be no exposed moments to worry about.”</p><p>“It’s a brooch.”</p><p>“Kilt pin, sir. It has a thistle on the end, see? Very appropriate for your District.”</p><p>“Kravik, you forgot to give me any underwear.”</p><p>“Ah yes, my lord, now there’s another thing about the kilt…”</p><p>It took a while to ease Maxim through that revelation.</p><p>“And you want your dirk.”</p><p>“With all the lace, the skirt and the furry purse I don’t think I have one any more.”</p><p>“Dirk, sir. Dagger. It goes in your sock.”</p><p>“Of course it does.”</p><p>“Now,  you look superb, sir.”</p><p>“Why all this, anyway? Vortaxis is Greek, isn’t it? I thought we were Greekies.”</p><p>“Madame Verity checked it out, sir. The District was mostly settled by Greek families, yes, but back in the early years there was a bit of a scuffle and a new Count took over. He was from the English settlers. Well, almost English. They called it Scotchish – apparently that was a country on Earth in the old days. They think the name was Mackenzie, but it got the Vor tacked on it, and it drifted to sound a bit Greek. Perhaps it made people feel more comfortable with their new Count. But anyway that’s a Mackenzie tartan, I’m informed.”</p><p>“Kravik, I’ll kill you later. No time now, I have to go, and I don’t want to get blood on my nice skirt.”</p><p>“Yes sir. The staff are lined up to wish you well.”</p><p>“Lovely. More audience. Right, we’re ready. I can deal with this. It can’t get any worse.”</p><p>“No sir. All ready to go. Oh, just one more thing. Here’s your bonnet, sir.”</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Getting to know you...from a distance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>More of the kilt. I can't help it, there's something about a man in a kilt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Anastasia, I’m going to Vorhartung Castle today, for the swearing in of the new Count. Would you like to come with me?”  Laisa looked at her anxiously.  “Or will it be too difficult for you?”</p><p>Such a short time ago she’d been in the Council chamber, on trial. Hardly a good memory. And now some distant cousin was taking over the Countship. He was the new head of her family, but she didn’t think any of them would be sending Winterfair cards to her. </p><p>Laisa waited a moment, then went on, “There’s some seats reserved for his family. His mother and sister are staying in Vortaxis House at the moment. There’s two brothers and a few other relatives coming to see him take his oath. Well, actually he has a whole tribe of relatives, but we can’t fit them all in. And there’s other people who want to be there, as well; Countesses and even some Government Minsters. The official vid channel will be transmitting the ceremony live, it’s a big day.”  </p><p>“Yes, that side of the family was far more prolific.”  Her mind was running at a hundred miles a minute. Did she want to go? Could she cope? She was the last of Ludo’s line – would the new Count want her there?  </p><p>“I can reserve a seat for you, if you wish. You won’t have to sit with the family, you’ll be with me. But it’s up to you.”</p><p>“I think… I think I need to see things through. I don’t want to make an issue of it all, and I’ll probably be seeing him at social events here at the Residence now and then. I won’t intrude on the family, but if I’m there… it’ll be an ending, and a new beginning.  Besides, most of them wouldn’t even recognise me.”</p><p>Laisa smiled. “Good. You don’t want to get some kind of problem with it.  See how you feel, you can slip away if it’s all too much. But I’m glad to see that you’re dealing with it.”</p><p>Dealing with it. Was she dealing with it?</p><p>Actually, yes. Anastasia was quiet in the aircar as they headed for the ceremony. She had a great job. A nice place to live. A very comfortable salary. She’d attended social events at the Residence a few times already, with many more to come. She was able to visit her Vorsmythe relatives whenever she wanted, and had invitations to a few parties and dinners at Vorsmythe House as well. Friends from university and the Fine Arts Academy had been in touch. She was a young woman in the Capital, busy with work and a happy social life. </p><p>She grieved for Dimitry. For the young brother  she remembered, not the brutal, dishonourable man he became. She couldn’t grieve for Ludo – he’d never even pretended to care for her, and she felt nothing for him except regret for a life wasted. She wasn’t going to waste her life. So she’d watch the new man become Count, and then she’d be finished with the whole Vortaxis family, issues, and responsibilities.   She wished them well, and happy, but she was done with that part of her life. There were dark moments now and then, shudders as she thought of what might have been, she’d get a bit shaky sometimes when it all rushed back. But if she kept on telling herself that she was fine, one day it would be true. And this was a big step to making it true. She could deal with this. </p><p>“It’s a lovely day for it.”  Thank goodness for the weather. </p><p>Laisa nodded. “Sunlight makes everything happier, doesn’t it.”</p><p>The kept on throwing platitudes at each other for a while. Mouth moves, suitable things come out – look, this is me, I’m doing fine. Truly. </p><p>As they neared Vorhartung Castle she glanced across the river. “Oh!”</p><p>“Vortaxis House? Yes, he’s made some changes already.”</p><p>The House was… it was golden, almost glowing in the morning sun. Beautiful gardens cascaded down the terraces towards the cliff top. “I hope he’s fixed that wall.”</p><p>“I’m sure he has. He seems to have accomplished a great deal already.”</p><p>“I’m glad. The House deserves to be happy.”  She looked away. </p><p>There was a long line of aircars jostling for parking spots around the Castle. Official Countly vehicles were sent to their designated parking area. Laisa’s Imperial vehicle, with the Vorbarra armsmen escorting it on float-bikes, was waved through to the Imperial parking spots. They slid to a stop beside another black, shiny aircar with the same coat of arms on the front panel, “Gregor’s already here.  He’ll be fending off last-minute pleas from some of the Counts. There’s a lot of complaints that this new man won’t understand the dignity and tradition that go with the role, apart from all the political requirements.”</p><p>“Yes, he’s probably used to shooting at the enemy.  He can’t do that with the Counts.”</p><p>“We can dream.”</p><p>A small delegation was waiting for them; the Vicereine, and Lord and Lady Vorkosigan. </p><p>“Aral’s being the Count today, in honour of the new Count. So I have my son as escort.”  Cordelia smiled, “And he didn’t want to miss this.”</p><p>Anastasia had chatted with the Vicereine, and Lady Vorkosigan too, at a couple of Residence events. There were greetings all round.</p><p>The Vicereine smiled at her, “Not letting it hold you back. Good. Doesn’t do to hide away from things.”</p><p>The group, escorted by two sets of armsmen now, swept through the main entrance, doing what Laisa called the ‘nod, smile, avoid’ method to get past the Counts and assorted spectators.  “We’re doing the front doors today. Making sure we’re seen, and adding Our support to the new Count. The poor man is going to need all the help he can get.”</p><p>They were settled into the centre of the second row in the Viewing Gallery. Anastasia looked at the empty seats in front.  </p><p>“For the family,” Laisa  whispered, “It’s their day today.  And it might help him to see them. Give him an emotional boost.”</p><p>Anastasia looked down at the Council Chamber. The last time she’d been in this building she’d been down there. With Dimitry. Ludo was still alive. Everyone looking, everyone knowing…luckily there’d been so much pain from her injuries, and so many drugs to stop the pain, that everything had been fuzzy around the edges. </p><p>Let it all go. It’s over. This is now.</p><p>She sat quietly as a group of people were ushered to the front row. She recognised Rodan Vortaxis and his wife Natalie, so the rest must be Maxim’s sister, mother, and – was that another brother? Probably. And a couple of aunts and uncles, plus a few cousins in military dress uniform. The new Vortaxis clan, and an impressive lot they were – tall, well built, dark hair and eyes, and very Vor. </p><p>Soon the gallery was packed, Anastasia could hear the excited whisperings. There were quite a few Countesses scattered around, with various attendant family members. She could hear speculation about the new Count, and of course the fact that the poor man was single, and he’d need a Countess. The race was on. </p><p>The desks filled up in the Chamber, and a hush fell as the Emperor took his place. The Lord Guardian of the Speakers Circle tapped his official spear on the ground, for silence, and introduced the new session. </p><p>“Our first item on the agenda today is the swearing-in of the new Count Vortaxis. Bring him forth!”  The man obviously enjoyed the drama. </p><p>The doors below the gallery swung open, and a man marched firmly down the length of the Chamber, to kneel before the Emperor.</p><p>There were so many gasps that Anastasia was surprised there was still air in the chamber. Every woman in the Viewing Gallery craned forward, eyes fixed on a single target.</p><p>Wow.</p><p>Double wow.</p><p>He was a bit above average Vor height. Dark hair, of course. Broad shoulders, setting off that Hunter Green jacket, with silver lacing glittering under the lights. And… </p><p>Ohhhhh double triple quadruple wow.</p><p>His kilt swayed as he walked, somehow emphasising his slim hips, his strong stride, his… just general air of…. leashed manliness.</p><p>And on his head… it almost looked like a beret, in Hunter green. A narrow tartan band ran around the bottom. And on one side, a silver badge – she couldn’t tell, but it was probably the District’s Thistle-and-Myrtle crest. holding three dark green feathers that were standing up and fluttering proudly. They’d got the bonnet right, too. It was tilted to one side, adding to his almost cocksure air. </p><p>Anastasia shook her head, bad adjective. Ohhh no no no. </p><p>Some of the more impressionable ladies seemed to be drooling. </p><p>“Is that even legal?”  Lady Vorkosigan whispered quietly. </p><p>Anastasia shook her head, “The kilt never had that … impact… when old Count Ludo wore it.”</p><p>Cordelia smiled “We’ll get you all in sarongs one way or another!”</p><p>The oath-swearing was impressive, the new Count’s voice strong and clear. Then he stood, bowed to the Emperor, and strode to his desk. Front row on the left, a few desks from the doors. He glanced up to his family and smiled. </p><p>There was another general swoon from the gallery. He looked even better from the front.</p><p>Anastasia sat back in her seat. Well, it didn’t look like the new Count was going to need much help and support, he seemed to be very sure of himself. </p><p>There wasn’t much Council business, it was really for show. Votes on an extra allocation to the Fleet, new safety regulations in factories, and the licence for a new Nexus-backed media station.  All the politicking and vote-trading had already been done.  The new Count voted Yes, Yes, and No, in a clear and confident voice. </p><p>Supports the military – solid Barrayaran values. Safety for prole workers – pleased the Progressives. Not keen on Nexus ideas being spread around – solidly Conservative. If he was sending a message it was that he’d make up his own mind. </p><p>And then the session was declared closed, and the Vortaxis clan swirled down to the chamber to congratulate the head of their family. </p><p>Anastasia trailed past behind Laisa, using her for cover. She didn’t want to intrude. Count Vortaxis was being swamped by congratulatory Counts, with his family hovering around the outskirts. He was going to be fine.</p><p>Laisa used Lord Vorkosigan and the Vicereine as a flying wedge to get through the crowd. Gregor was looking less serious – the closest he’d get to a smile in this place. “All set?  Let’s move.”  They headed through his private door before any of the hopeful, hovering Counts could pounce.</p><p>Gregor had more people to see that afternoon, so they didn’t go back to the Residence. Lunch was served in one of the conference rooms in the Castle. Anastasia tried to sidle away, but she ended up dining with the Emperor, Empress, Vicereine, Viceroy, and Lord and Lady Vorkosigan. Henri Vorvolk was there too, and Commodore Koudelka. A couple of high-ranking officers and the Lord Guardian scurried in at the last moment to join them. Anastasia smiled, ate, and listened. </p><p>“He’s made a good start,” the Lord Auditor began. “He’s got Vortaxis House looking like new, a definite improvement. Anyone going to meet him there will be impressed.”</p><p>“Two flying visits to his District, checking the place out. Not an official visit yet, but he’s already impressed his administration. They’re hoping for great things.”  Henri Vorvolk was approving. His own District was the envy of the rest, quietly efficient and productive. </p><p>The Emperor nodded, “He’s already held a few business meetings, sounding out new contracts and trading partners. Nothing settled yet, but he’s obviously making plans.”</p><p>Anastasia let the conversation flow around her. This was a nice meal. She would eat this nice meal. There were no bad memories from the last time she was in this building. None. Eat the nice meal. </p><p>“He’s moved his sister into the House, she’s acting as his social secretary. Her husband’s on ship duty, she has four small children, so it’s a good move for her. And for him, she’s a very efficient gatekeeper so far.”</p><p>“His mother is staying there, too. She’s an artist – Olga Vorkalloner Vortaxis. Signs her work as Olga VV.”</p><p>“She’s Olga VV? She’s marvellous!  I had my eye on a small one of hers at her last exhibition, but I wasn’t fast enough.”</p><p>“We have three of hers in the Residence. Her work is so strong. One of them is a storm – you can practically feel the wind and rain. There’s one of the ocean, I love that one. And one is such a beautiful scene, Gregor has that one in his private study.”</p><p>“It’s very calming.”</p><p>“Rodan Vortaxis was there – he’s rising fast in the government. He’ll be a Minister one day. It’s odd – in private he’s a screaming revolutionary, but his public career has been unassailable, he’s always worked for the good of the Imperium.”</p><p>“Some of us manage that.”</p><p>“We need people with strong views, differing views. It’s the only way the Empire can adapt and improve.”</p><p>“Maxim’s been very busy this past week – he’s done more in a week than some Counts do in a year.”</p><p>“I thought you told him to start slow and take time to find his way.”</p><p>“He must have found it very quickly.”</p><p>“Military training.”</p><p>“Forward momentum.”</p><p>“That kilt….”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The Old Jokes Are The Best</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yes, Rose, I know the old joke too!  Ahhh the classics.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank goodness that’s over.”  The new Count Vortaxis stretched out in the back of his aircar. </p><p>“I thought it all went very well.”  His mother smiled at him, “I’m so proud of you, dear.”</p><p>“Mother, we have issues. You didn’t think to warn me about the kilt?”</p><p>“But Maxim, you sent me the file on the uniforms. Didn’t you read it?”</p><p>Verity snickered, “He’s not a detail person, Mother. Maxim does strategy and tactics. I do logistics.”</p><p>“Well it looks very nice. It had a nice sway to it as you walked down the chamber.”</p><p>“Sway?  I was SWAYING???”</p><p>“Your kilt, dear.”</p><p>Verity patted his arm, “Honestly, Maxim, you looked fine. Believe me, all the women in the Viewing Gallery were impressed. Very. There was drool.”</p><p>“Fine. I’ll have this as my House uniform, but NOT for my normal suits.”</p><p>“Of course not. You don’t want to overdo things.”</p><p>“I can’t wait to get back to the House and relax.”</p><p>“Um….”</p><p>He glared at his grinning sibling, “Verity, what have you done?”</p><p>“Maxim, this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Literally. You need to celebrate it.”</p><p>“I can celebrate in a nice bath.  Ohhh for heaven’s sake stop smirking, I didn’t mean-”</p><p>“Of course not. Maybe you should just sway your kilt a bit more.”</p><p>“Stop it, you’ll shock Mother.”</p><p>“She’s an artist. Anyway, the family are coming over for a nice lunch to congratulate you – they couldn’t all fit in the Viewing Gallery. And I’ve rounded up some of your friends from the Service.”</p><p>“You don’t know my friends from the Service.”</p><p>“I hacked your address book. And I asked Kravik. He was very helpful.”</p><p>“Oh I’ll just bet he was. I’m going to kill him twice.”</p><p>“Stop pouting. And be careful how you sit in that kilt.  Now, as well as friends and family, I’ve invited the old armsmen – and I do mean old. Not the thugs, they’ve moved on to lord knows what. But the older men, they’d love to meet you. There’s some wives with them, too. The ladies are very keen. Gorlov helped me get in touch with them all. There’s nine who retired when Ludo died. And five others who’d retired years before that. One of them’s his grandfather – he’s still going strong and he so wants to see you. He’s the oldest surviving ex-armsman.”</p><p>“Gorlov’s GRANDFATHER?  Gorlov has to be close to sixty. How old is his grandfather?”</p><p>“A hundred and two. Very proud of it, he is. He’s a marvellous source for historical information.”</p><p>“Because he was THERE.”</p><p>“Of course. Just be nice to him, he’s so happy to see the next Count. He first took oath with Ludo’s father.”</p><p>“Alright, lunch. Friends, family, armsmen older than dirt. Then some peace.”</p><p>“And it’s so fortunate that Petros finished the side garden. Most of the family are bringing their children this time, so we’ll just shoot them all into the playground, and barricade the gates.”</p><p>“You have the soul of a Tau Certan dirt snake. They eat their young, you know.”</p><p>“I adore my young, and never more than when  they’re with Nanny and I can do things like a normal human being. They’ll all be fine in the playground. They can bond with their cousins.  There’s plenty of things to climb up and fall off, there’s fruit trees to denude, even some strawberry plants scattered around.  As well as the herb garden, but they probably won’t eat that. And there’s a sandpit, climbing frames, a fairy grotto, a child-sized house, a tree house, and all the rest of it – it’s a wonderland, actually. Petros really let himself go.”</p><p>“You mean you pushed him every step of the way. You’re a mama bear when it comes to your young, I know. Anyway, we’ll have to let them out for… er… pitstops.”</p><p>“No need. Petros put a storage shed in there, for the play equipment and tools. And the other end of the shed is a very nice restroom. Adult and child-sized facilities, change tables, everything. Even a shower in case of accidents. I made sure the place was fully stocked, too. We’ll toss some of the nurserymaids in before we barricade the gates.”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan. Toss Yvgeny in there as well.”</p><p>The luncheon was a resounding success. Maxim wasn’t teased about the kilt as much as he expected – the armsmen were all firmly in favour, and all his female relatives seemed quite enthusiastic too. He wondered if this was how a bride felt, the focus of all eyes. He’d just married a District, after all. </p><p>He was leaning quietly against a helpful wall, wondering if the Ouzo was really as harmless as Petrov had told him it was. He could still feel his legs, so it couldn’t be that bad. </p><p>He’d also heard what was, apparently, the most popular joke in his District. Three times. </p><p>‘Is anything worn under the kilt?’</p><p>‘No, it’s all in perfect working order.’</p><p>He must have had too much to drink, that joke was starting to sound funny. </p><p>“My lord Count.”</p><p>Maxim looked around. The old man was standing straight and firm. He was very thin, his skin dark and leathery. He was still a tall man, and he’d been strong and well-fleshed in his heyday. </p><p>“Good afternoon.”</p><p>“I am Orrin Gorlov, my lord Count.”</p><p>“Oh yes, Gorlov’s grandfather. I believe you were an armsman for my great-grandfather.”</p><p>“It was my honour to be so, yes sir. I’m happy to see you following the fine traditions of our District.”</p><p>Maybe the kilt was worth it after all. </p><p>“I’m trying to. I’m hoping to learn more.”</p><p>Gorlov drifted over to them, “My lord, my grandfather is a wonderful source for knowledge about the District.”</p><p>Maxim surveyed the old man. He seemed very sharp, not at all doddery or confused. “I’d like to learn more. I’m sure there are things I need to know, and I don’t know that I don’t know them, if you follow me. Perhaps you could drop by here, tomorrow, and we could have a comfortable chat.”</p><p>The old man nodded, “It would be my honour, sir. And I can show you the escape tunnels and secret passages.”</p><p>“We have those? Here?”</p><p>“It’s how Mam’selle Anastasia escaped.”</p><p>So much for ImpSec’s plan to keep things secret. “Uh, that’s not common knowledge.”</p><p>“No sir. I wouldn’t say it to anyone else. But we all know, of course.”</p><p>“Er, of course.”</p><p>“I’ll be here tomorrow then, sir. I was head armsman at the end, so I know all the secret places. Some of them, only the old Count and I knew. I can tell you about the old traditions. And the way of things in the District. And the ghosts, of course.”</p><p>It had been going so well. Apparently the poor old man was a few sandwiches short of a picnic after all.  “Ghosts? That sort of thing is just a story to frighten the children.”</p><p>Yvgeny drifted past, with his usual ability to somehow pick up a relevant line in a conversation, “Yes there are. Ghosts, I mean. I saw one here the other day.”</p><p>“Yvgeny, you saw nothing but shadows.”</p><p>“No, it was in the library. Old man in some kind of dress – a lot like yours, now I come to think of it. Nice. Helpful. I asked him about the way the books were filed, and he explained the system. Knew where there were some marvellous first editions, some really old volumes. Then he disappeared.”</p><p>“He was one of the servants.”</p><p>“No, I mean actually disappeared. One minute there, then just gone, whoofff,  in a moment. While I was looking at him.”</p><p>The old armsman nodded happily, “Ah, that’d be the old Count. Your great-grandfather, sirs. He did love his books. Nobody’s touched the library much for years – Mam’selle Anastasia’s mother read a bit, but mostly she bought her own, things she was interested in. The old Count still visits his books now and then. You were lucky, he doesn’t show himself to many people.”</p><p>Maxim closed his eyes for a moment. “Ghosts, I have ghosts. How many? Am I going to meet Ludo walking the halls at night?”</p><p>Gorlov – the younger – shook his head, “No, my lord. We took care of that. Did a little ceremony when all the ImpSec people left. Ma Kennerli’s niece does cleansings. Ludo and Lord Dimitry – poor, foolish young man – they’re safely gone. But we wouldn’t bother the others.”</p><p>“Gorlov, would you be able to escort your grandfather to here tomorrow, please. Sir, would you have lunch with me and we can have a chat about times past?  Gorlov can drive you.”  </p><p>“No need, my lord. All the senior armsmen are staying in the married quarters in the Entrance wall. Madame Verity sent two of the men down to the District yesterday to escort them all up here in the airbus. They’ll stay for a few days and then we’ll escort them back again.”</p><p>I have an airbus?  Maxim reminded himself to check the garages again. </p><p>“My sister is a good organiser.”</p><p>The armsmen nodded respectfully and took their leave. Yvgeny smiled at him, “I like this house. I’m going to move in here.”</p><p>“No you’re not.”</p><p>“But Maxim – this place is beautiful. It’s so happy here.”</p><p>“I’m happy here because you’re not here. You have a home. You live there, in your apartment.”</p><p>“No I don’t. Not after next week, anyway. The landlord put a notice on my door.”</p><p>“Did you forget to pay your rent again?”</p><p>“No, this one said something about ‘Condemned’. It’s been there for two months now. But some men came around a few days ago, and they said they’re knocking the building down next week.”</p><p>“Well, find a new place.”</p><p>“But Maxim, Verity is here. Mother is here.”</p><p>“Verity is working for me. Mother is starting work for a new exhibition. And she’s doing some artworks for this house.”</p><p>“I can work for you.”</p><p>“What can you do?”</p><p>The silence stretched out. Then Yvgeny beamed, “The library! I’ll organise your library. Do a stocktake of all those beautiful books.  It needs doing.”</p><p>Maxim sighed, then grabbed a passing almost-armsman, “Panagiotis, tell the housekeeper I need another set of rooms ready on the same floor as my mother and sister. My brother is moving in. Oh joy.” </p><p>Yvgeny had already drifted away, lost in his happy cloud again. Maxim shook his head, wondering how someone as vague and ineffective as Yvgeny always seemed to have things turn out just the way he wanted. </p><p>As Verity hurried past, Maxim flagged her down, “Nice work with the old armsmen. Giving them a little holiday in the Capital.”</p><p>“It’ll be the last time here for most of them. They’re revisiting old familiar places, enjoying the memories. Some of the new armsmen can drive them around. They’ll probably get some useful hints about armsmanning, too.”</p><p>“Before the oldies go back, have a chat with the almost-armsmen. Gorlov told me yesterday that some of them are married. Apparently the old miser made all his armsmen, and other staff at the House, leave their wives and children back in the District. Tell them to contact their wives, and when the oldies go back the escorts can bring wives and children to the Capital, if they want to come. If there’s too many for our airbus you can hire some more. They’ll have a few days to pack and organise. We’ll need to see if they can all get on together, since they might be living in the married quarters by the gate. There’s a few weeks left before the oaths, it’ll give us all a chance to see if things will work out. You might have to check out the local schools, too, and the transport for them.”</p><p>Verity hugged him quickly, “I do like the way your mind works. Most of the time.”  She headed off with a flock of cousins and sisters-in-law. Maxim sipped his drink. </p><p>“You’re doing a good job, boy.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He turned towards the voice. There was no-one there. </p><p>That night Maxim had a nightmare; all of his family were moving in. He smiled grimly, he had contingency plans.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Thud and Blunder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ok, this chapter answers a few questions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yvgeny was at the breakfast table next morning.</p><p>“You’ve moved in already?”  Maxim glared as he grabbed for his morning coffee.</p><p>“Maxim, behave.” Their mother gave him a higher-wattage glare, “It’s nice to have some of my children around me for a while.”</p><p>“Maybe Rodan wants to move in too? With Natalie and the children?  And when Ivor and Galina finish their ship duties, they could come here as well?”</p><p>“Don’t pout, dear. And stop being silly.”</p><p>Verity saved him, “What’s on the list for today, my lord Count?”</p><p>“Finally, some respect. This morning I have Oncle Abelard and Tante Eloise coming to see me about a little project I have in mind. Then I’m having lunch with the oldest armsman in the world, he’s going to tell me all the family secrets. If I survive that, this afternoon I have a business meeting, we’ll use the middle-sized conference room.  Lord Mark Vorkosigan, Count Vorsmythe,  Lord Vann Vorgustafson, Tabor Kalamakis and Leonidas Brazhensky. Make sure the place is stuffed with coffee, tea and nibbles. Best manners while they’re here, everyone. Yvgeny, you’re confined to the library.”`	</p><p>“Thank you!”  He smiled in pure bliss. </p><p>“And then, oh joy and delight, there’s some sort of fuss at the Residence. Traditional Vor drinking festival. I have to go and be a Count. Mother, Verity, wear your best party frocks. I’ll need protection from predatory females.”</p><p>“You’ll need someone to get your drunken backside home again.”</p><p>“Tradition is a fine thing. Just remember to behave in public, I don’t want to shock my fellow Counts.”</p><p>“That’s a nice relaxing day for you. What’s for me?”  Verity buttered Yvgeny’s toast and gently confiscated the mustard from him, just in time, exchanging it for apricot jam. </p><p>“For you? While you laze around here with your four – no, sorry, now five, children?  Well, ok – answer all my correspondence. You can accept official invitations, and anything that looks really interesting. I’ve sent you my calendar, don’t accept for any dates that are blocked out. Nothing involving Vor maidens. If I need a partner for protection I can just use you or Mother.  Finish sorting out the armsmen’s families. Order wristcoms for all the new armsmen. Get twenty, we’ll need that many eventually. There’s going to be a bit happening in the North Wing, just ignore it. Gorlov, Barlow, Letokis, Panagiotis and Kravik have already accepted the armsman job, so send them off to the tailor’s for measuring, to start getting their liveries sorted out – they all have to be done in three weeks, so he can make a start. One formal, two ordinary and House blacks for each of them. And I like the look of those dark green shirts, so get something like that for all the staff – not livery, just something neat and tidy. Some of them look a bit threadbare at the moment.”</p><p>“Good idea. Most of them can’t afford many clothes.”</p><p>“Get Mother to help you if you want to do anything fancy with it.  Now, in three week’s time we’re all going to the District. The Count’s residence there is called Glamis. It’s… indescribable. But it’ll do for a week. We’ll all go down there and make it an official visit, I’ll do all the public meet-and-greets, you can start organising that, but leave some days free because I have some business to sort out down there. And I’ll take the oaths of any armsmen who still want to sign up after seeing this madhouse. Make it a semi-public ceremony, all their families can come along, we can use the gardens at Glamis if it’s a nice day, or there’s enough room indoors for a football match, so we can set up in there if the weather isn’t kind to us. We’ll give them a sandwich or something afterwards. You’re in charge of it all, of course.”</p><p>“Thank goodness. That way I know it’ll be done right.”</p><p>“Ah,  your modesty is one of your best features. Which shows how bad the rest are.”</p><p>A flying bread roll interrupted their discussion. Yvgeny reached out and caught it without looking, and started to butter it. </p><p>“Honestly, your children would be better off if they were raised by wolves. While I’m working down there, you and the munchkins, and Mother, can laze around on the beaches and mingle with the locals. We’ll chain Yvgeny in the cellar.  We’ll all come back here about a week after the oath-taking, that’ll give them time to recover from their celebrations. Use local firms for everything, they need the business.”</p><p>“Fine. Who’s looking after this place if we take everyone?”</p><p>“I’ll – you’ll – get a security firm to keep an eye on the place. Don’t want anyone to miss out. There’ll be workmen here, too.”</p><p> “And that’s all?”</p><p>“Well, just one more tiny thing. A few days before we go to the District,  I’m giving a ball.”</p><p>“I’m amazed you have one to spare.”</p><p>“Charming. I could have hired a cousin, you know. You weren’t my first choice.  Anyway, the ball. Have you seen the ballroom here? I’ve only glanced in. I’m assuming it’s usable.”</p><p>“It’s huge. There’s actually panels that slide out from the walls, so you can use one third, two thirds or all of it.”</p><p>“We’ll need it all.”</p><p>“Fine. Who’s coming?”</p><p>“Invite all of the Counts and Countesses. And their Heirs and wives. Plus any other High-Vor who are worth the invitation. Anyone with a title. Auditors. Government Ministers. Prime Minister. The top-level from the Science Institute, University, and so on. The General Staff.  Successful business operators. Heads of the major banks. Judges and important lawyers. Inventors. Artists and gallery owners. Authors. Important actors and other performers. Rising young stars in any field. Anyone who’s invited me to anything. All of the Vor mothers and their sweet maidens – that’ll liven things up. My old friends from the military. Our family. Anyone else who looks interesting. And that Komarran trade delegation that’s floating around. Plus wives, husbands and assorted attachments of all the above. Oh, and the Emperor and Empress, not that they’ll come.”</p><p>“Well, that’s a start.”</p><p>Their mother looked up in awe, “Will they all fit?”</p><p>Verity nodded, “The record in the ballroom was eight hundred – at a ball given by our great-grandmother. But people did comment that the dancing was a bit crowded. We’ll use the formal Dining Room on the floor below for the refreshments, the large drawing room will be for the cards and other gambling, and some of the sitting rooms on that floor for discreet snogging.”</p><p>“So that’s what you were doing at all those parties.”  Verity smirked. Maxim sailed on, “You’ll have to find all the addresses to send the invitations out. Start planning the food – we’ll have a dinner beforehand for a select group. Then there’ll be drinks, of course – a swimming pool-worth of wine should do it. And supper.  And music – some band or something for the dancing. Stick a few flowers around the ballroom. We’ll probably need to hire a few extra waiters. And… stuff. Whatever. Up to you.”</p><p>“You just want to make a splash?”</p><p>“Big splash. Tsunami. Everyone’s jockeying to get my attention. So we’ll scoop up all of it – politics, business, the arts, sciences, and all. One huge heaving mass, all the brightest and best, or at least highest-ranking, in Barrayar. They can eat, drink, dance, and then everyone’s been here and I’ve broken the ice.”</p><p>“So I’m organising one of the largest social events of the season, in a couple of weeks. And without most of the information I need. And then right afterwards overseeing all of us heading off to the District for a triumphal tour.”</p><p>“That’s it. Got it in one. I know you like a challenge.”</p><p>“Brother dear, the ball at Vortaxis House is going to be the hit of the Season. I’ll check the social calendar to fix a date - I’ll liaise with the social office at the Residence to make sure there’s no clashes. And they might come through with a lot of the comconsole codes we need, too, or even the actual addresses.”  Verity was already deep in planning mode. </p><p>“Mother, if you have any old friends or artistic cronies, tell Verity to put them on the list.”</p><p>Verity was frowning as she thought of a dozen things at once, “We’ll need the guest list to be finalised fast, it’ll have to be vetted by ImpSec. I’ll get the Residence staff to help with that too.”  She was muttering reminders to herself, making lists and plans.</p><p>Maxim turned to his mother, “You and Verity will need new outfits for the ball. I’ll trust your good taste. I’ll foot the bill, you’re representing the House.”</p><p>“Maxim, you don’t have to do that!”</p><p>“Call it an early Winterfair present.”</p><p>Yvgeny looked up hopefully. Maxim sighed, “I could have got a dog, you know. More emotional support and far less of a nuisance. Ok, fine – get my tailor’s name from Kravik. No, have Kravik take you to my tailor. And let him decide what you get.”</p><p>Verity emerged from her clouds for a moment, ”Oh, and there was a message for you early this morning. From the Residence. You have to see the Emperor in…” she checked her chrono, “An hour and ten minutes.”</p><p>“You tell me that NOW?”</p><p>“Well, if I’d told you before you wouldn’t have told ME all about the joys to come, and I’d lose a whole day of planning.”</p><p>“The Residence? I can’t go – I have nothing to wear!”</p><p>“Wear your fancy suit from yesterday.”</p><p>“It’s too formal. And I can’t wear my uniform, that’s… over. My other clothes are too casual….”</p><p>“Honestly, Maxim, you’re worse than a girl. Anyway, your suits were delivered early this morning. They’ve got trousers and everything. Go. Put one on. Go see the Emperor.  You’ve got plenty of time.  I’ll entertain Oncle Abelard and Tante Eloise until you get back.”</p><p>Maxim headed for his rooms, “I want an aircar and two armsmen in ten minutes. Pick two who aren’t going to the tailor today. Get moving – I can’t be late for the Emperor!”</p><p>Military training is a wonderful thing. In just ten minutes Maxim was settling into the groundcar, wearing a crisp navy-blue suit. “The Residence, Andrianakis. When we get there you stay with the car, and Kuznetzov, you’ll come with me. We need to hit the ground running. We’re cutting it a bit fine, but we have an hour, we should make it on time.”</p><p>Unfortunately there was something going on at the university, with laughing students in brightly-coloured costumes throwing what looked like bags of flour at each other. Traffic was backed up as people tried to get around the combat. </p><p>“I’ll take a detour, my lord. Don’t worry.”</p><p>As soon as the road was clear they shot forward, only to slow again at the Star Bridge. </p><p>“I think someone’s trying to jump, my lord.”</p><p>“Then push him off and get moving.”</p><p>Fortunately even not-quite-armsmen know when to ignore an order. </p><p>The Municipal Guard were discussing matters with the man on the bridge, who had been trying to lean out to get the best angle for a vid shot.</p><p>“Damn tourists.”</p><p>The Guard waved the traffic on.</p><p>And then it was a smooth run, looping around to find the fastest route…</p><p>…they were going to make it…</p><p>…until the traffic snarled around the Great Square. </p><p>“I’m sorry, my lord. It’s a floatbus accident up ahead.”</p><p>“Andrianakis, nobody keeps the Emperor waiting.”</p><p>The car spun into a side street, then along a series of alleys – some of them clearly posted as one way. The other way. Then straight through a parking area, around several loading bays at the back of some shops that faced the Great Square, to finally pop out into the main approach road to the Residence gates. </p><p>There were horns, of course. And a few less-than-friendly waves. </p><p>“Andrianakis, have you ever done a specialised driving course?”</p><p>“First in my class, sir. It was special training for… well, it was special training.”</p><p>“Well done. I think I just aged ten years.”</p><p>“Thank you sir.”</p><p>They pulled sedately into the Residence gates, and were waved to the Security area. Maxim abandoned the aircar and hurried towards the Sec-check. “I have an appointment with the Emperor in …. Oh lords in just a few minutes. Make it fast, please. Kuznetzov, with me. Andrianakis, get that bin off the front of the aircar.”</p><p>An armsman was already waiting, hovering anxiously, “Let me escort you, my lord Count.”</p><p> They hurried through the first Security check, then along a few corridors until they reached a floor that had even deeper carpet, and a careful hush. </p><p> “Your attendant can wait here, my lord.”</p><p>They didn’t run, that would be undignified. But they were moving along briskly when Maxim followed the armsman around a corner and –</p><p>“BWOOFF!”</p><p>Suddenly he was lying down, on something very soft.</p><p>“Get off me you great lump!”</p><p>He struggled to stand up without touching any part of her body while he did it. The result was, of course, a great deal of kicking and rolling around before Maxim was standing up again, looking down at a rather crumpled but otherwise very attractive woman.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, miss. Are you – can I help you – ”</p><p>The floor was littered with flimsies and data chips. Empty folders slid under his feet. A pretty wooden box, divided into small compartments to hold data chips in order, lay smashed in pieces. </p><p>“You OAF!  You IDIOT!  You lumbering – ”</p><p>“Mam’selle, I’m sorry, but the Emperor wants him. I’ll send someone to help you.”</p><p>“No, don’t worry. It’ll only take me an hour or so to reorganise and replace it. Just take him away.”</p><p>She started scrabbling around, scraping up shattered data chips. </p><p>“I’m very sorry. I’ll – ”</p><p>“My lord, we must go. Sorry Mam’selle.”</p><p>Maxim snatched a final look at her. Even angry she was a very attractive young woman. She looked up at him and her eyes widened for a moment, “Count Vortaxis!  I didn’t recognise you.”</p><p>The armsman hustled him away before he could say anything more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Just a quick chat....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They met. They bounced.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia scrabbled through the scattered data chips, with hands that were trembling. Small pieces glittered in the light from the ones that hadn’t survived being trampled.</p><p>Maxim. So close to her. </p><p>Don’t think, just grab the flimsies.</p><p>Arms full of crushed, crumpled work that had taken hours to assemble, she hurried back towards her office. An armsman loomed up, “This way, please, Mam’selle. The Empress would like to speak with you.”</p><p>“Now? But I have to – please – I’ll just put this in my office.”</p><p>“This way, mam’selle.”</p><p>Of course. You don’t make the Empress wait. </p><p>“Anastasia!  What happened to you!”</p><p>“I bumped into – someone – who was hurrying down the corridor.”</p><p>“Are you alright? How hard did you hit? Were you knocked down? Anastasia, you had major surgery not too long ago, are you sure you feel alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine, honestly. My presentation suffered a bit, though – the flimsies need resorting, and some were crumpled. And my data chips – he STEPPED on some of them!  I’ll need to run off some more. Are the committee members waiting? Maybe they could have some morning tea, or breakfast, or something, and I’ll be ready. Soon.”</p><p>“Who was it? Who collided with you?”</p><p>“… uh… Count Vortaxis.”</p><p>“Oh.”  The silence sat there for a moment, considering several different directions to go. “What did he say?”</p><p>“Sorry, basically. He doesn’t know me. And we weren’t formally introduced. He just lay there on top of me for a moment, and then sort of wriggled a lot trying to get off me and get up, and then he trampled all my data chips, and then the armsman took him away.”</p><p>“By Barrayaran rules, that counts as a first date.”</p><p>“Not in this lifetime. It would all be a bit too awkward.”</p><p>“I suppose so. It’s a shame, though. Anyway, you’re busy with your job. And you need some time to deal with everything that happened.” She checked a readout on a comconsole, “The committee are here. I’ll send them some brunch, they’ll be delighted to dine at the Residence. Take all the time you need to get things sorted out.”</p><p>“Thank you, I’ll be as fast as I can.”  Anastasia headed for the door.</p><p>“Anastasia…”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Was he wearing that kilt?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxim made it to the Emperor’s outer office with three minutes to spare. When the door opened he marched in and found himself facing the Emperor, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan, General Vorkovny and General Simonovski – two of the General Staff. He nearly saluted out of habit, but managed to change to an almost-bow to the Emperor – basically a head tilt, but done respectfully. He gave smaller tilts to the others, they weren’t Imperial enough for the full nod. </p><p>“Count Vortaxis, thank you for coming. We realise that you are very busy at the moment.”  At the Emperor’s gesture, they all headed for the circle of sofas and chairs at the far end of the room. </p><p>Maxim wracked his brain; had he forgotten something when he resigned from the military? Missed one of the forms or reports he should have done? Not returned some vital piece of equipment? Misplaced a ship? He didn’t make the rookie mistake of asking any questions that might hint at other sins. Let them do the talking. Hmm… maybe he was getting a grip on this politics thing after all.</p><p>“Count Vortaxis,”  The Lord Auditor’s eyes were fixed on him, with an almost uncomfortable force, “We have a problem. A political issue. We feel that you may be our solution.”</p><p>… and maybe he didn’t have a handle on this politics thing after all. </p><p>He gave a politely inquiring grunt. Not committing to anything yet.</p><p>The auditor ploughed on, “There’s a rather bitter dispute going on at the moment. We need a new training base for the military.”</p><p>“A new officers’ school?”</p><p>“No, this will be for enlisted men. Everything related to engines, motors, propulsion units and other forms of engineering. Basically it’s a school for mechanics, but they’re mechanics who will be working on some of the most complex and innovative engines and  machinery on Barrayar.  There will also be a testing facility, for ground vehicles, some weaponry, and so on.”</p><p>“That sounds… interesting.”</p><p>“The problem is the location.”  He glanced at the Emperor.</p><p>Gregor leaned forward, “Several Counts made serious bids to have the facility located in their District. The negotiations have been going on for some time.”</p><p>General Simonovski chimed in, “The military don’t really mind where it is. Not too close to the Capital, for security reasons. Not too far away, for convenience. We need a large sector of land. District support. And an effective transport link.”</p><p>Vorkosigan took over again, “The debate has raged on for a while. The Counts have the final vote on the location. But we’re having a problem getting consensus.”</p><p>Gregor sighed, “At the moment the main contenders are the Vorbretten and Vormoncrief Districts. Both of them are suitable. Each Count made an application for the base to be located in his District – it’s a long process to locate, survey and assess a suitable area; the other contenders dropped out along the way. Vorbretten has the support of the Progressives and most of the Centrists. Vormoncrief has the Conservatives, and the more extreme parties. There’s not much between them, and a vote of this type requires a three-quarters majority. The next Council meeting is in a week, and this is at the top of the agenda. Again. And it needs to be settled. We have to get that majority vote.”</p><p>“We don’t have it, for either of them,” the Auditor looked glum, “And we’re not going to get it.”</p><p>“We need that base!” General Vorkovny was obviously impatient with the whole business. </p><p>“Sire, I will vote for whatever is best for Barrayar. But I’m only one vote.”</p><p>The auditor had an evil grin, “Yes, but you’re also new. You don’t belong to any group. You have an impeccable military background, and your District has a Greekies majority, who make up most of the mechanics in the military. And you have some nice empty space in your District.”</p><p>Maxim gaped at him for a moment, “My District? For the base? But I don’t have a party, I don’t have any support at all!”</p><p>“The Counts are heartily sick of the whole thing. Rene won’t stand back and let Boriz win, and Boriz hates Rene, for reasons I’ll explain later. Old history. I’m sure that, with the right persuasion,” he gave an evil grin, “both of them would step aside in your favour. And none of the parties would oppose it, they’ll all be trying to recruit you.”</p><p>“A military base? In my District?” Maxim surveyed the hopeful faces around him, “What’s in it for my people?”</p><p>The discussion covered organisation, costs, area, and all the military details close to the heart of every man who’s had to organise large numbers of troops. </p><p>Finally Maxim leaned back, “The numbers look good. But the application will take weeks to prepare, I’ll have to make surveys, identify some possible areas, do a field assessment, then write it up, fill in all the forms… there’s no way I can have it done in time.”</p><p>“Well, as it happens…” the Lord Auditor produced a sheaf of flimsies, “It only needs your signature.”</p><p> </p><p>Half an hour later he was standing on the steps of the Residence, waiting for his aircar, while his almost-armsman juggled an armful of documents and data chips. “A successful meeting, my lord?”</p><p>“Very. I’ve just had part of my biggest problem solved for me.”  He had to admit, they’d been organised. The Lord Auditor had slid a pile of documents in front of him and offered him a stylus, ‘You can just sign here and we’ll submit it for you. I’ll have a chat with some of the Counts, and …er… organise things.’</p><p>Sign without reading it? Not likely. He didn’t think the Emperor would cheat him in any way, but he wanted to read the fine print. The Emperor, and the generals, seemed to approve of his caution. Vorkosigan lacked their patience, but he accepted the decision. Maxim was trying to remember which cousin was married to a lawyer. And he had a few ideas of his own that he wanted to play with for a while. They could wait for a day. </p><p>And now he only had one question.</p><p>Who was that girl?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. What to wear?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Counts have it easy: they don't have to choose what to wear.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia leaned back and sighed. She signed off on her report – that was another special job for the Empress finished. It had taken a lot of painstaking work, but she’d finally unravelled a nicely complicated scheme to defraud the government by claiming benefits using a variety of names and identities. And she’d seen past the fall guy – or in this case fall girl – to the man behind it all. </p><p>An armsman stepped into her office, nodded to her and gave the room a quick once-over glance, then stepped out again and bowed. Anastasia was already standing as the Empress hurried in, “Anastasia, how did it go?”</p><p>“All done. The usual story. Really, there should be more education about financial matters. So many people don’t have the smallest idea about it all. Kristina was a great help, she’s tying up the legal loose ends.”</p><p>Laisa nodded, “Adding a lawyer to my crew was a good idea. I’m thinking of getting another one, there’s so many appeals for help now, that don’t have a financial aspect to the problem. Mainly issues with court cases or child custody. I’ve discovered that the problem with claiming a new job is that you have a new job to do.”</p><p>Anastasia grinned, “They’re calling us your flying squad.”</p><p>“Ooooh I like that!” Laisa gave a very unEmpressly giggle. “I think Gregor has nudged a few cases my way. He likes to see justice done, but he also can’t be seen to interfere with due process. The Emperor must be seen to be totally unbiased.”  But, as she was discovering, an Empress was regarded as a force of nature. People just stood back and waited to see what happened next. And, as often as possible, what happened next was that those people who’d fallen through the cracks of the system had a second chance at justice.  </p><p>Laisa was so happy and confident now. Anastasia knew that Laisa’s work with the finance committees had earned her a lot of quiet respect. And she made time every day – several hours, now – to be with her children. Gregor always found some time, too – Anastasia had heard him mutter, “If Aral can do it, I can too.”  No idea what he meant, but he’d blocked out time in his crowded diary for the children, and heavens help any secretary who tried to shave off a precious minute for anything less urgent than planetary invasion. </p><p>Laisa’s new flying squad was getting far more notice though, even though in the long run her work on trade and finance would be of greater benefit to the Empire as a whole. But the ‘Empress’s Justice’ was a gift for the media, and there was plenty of publicity about the people who’d been saved from injustice. Widows and orphans are good for ratings, especially if they cry a bit, and then smile bravely. Anastasia tried to stay in the background but there were mentions that the heroine who saved the Imperial children from being kidnapped (thank goodness they didn’t know the real story, although there were rumours) was now saving even more innocent victims. Instead of being a traitor they were calling her a brave fighter for justice, a true Vor ideal. </p><p>Anastasia didn’t give any interviews. </p><p>Laisa turned to go, “Do you feel well enough for the Reception tonight? No after-effects from being squashed?”</p><p>“I’ll be there. I’m fine, truly. No after-effects at all.”</p><p>Except for the memory of him, so close. The clean male smell of his skin, the feel of his hands holding her firmly. The clumsy way he tried so hard to avoid making a mess, while making so much more. The eyes…  No, no after-effects at all. </p><p>Anastasia headed for her chambers. When did this glittering social life become routine? She ran through her wardrobe in her mind, deciding what tonight would be: Barrayaran or Komarran? She hadn’t worn the chestnut brown with gold thread yet – was it too much for tonight? The reception was a celebration of Dorca’s birthday. Not one of the biggest days in the social calendar, but a good excuse for a traditional all-Barrayaran celebration. This one wasn’t for Nexus diplomats or Komarran trade delegations, it was Just For Us. They could all let their hair down and do the full Barrayaran-format social event. Not a vat-protein in sight in the refreshment room. Yes, the chestnut brown with the gold bolero would be perfect; very traditional but it had a nicely modern cut to it. And the fabric was beautiful, it was a shot fabric that seemed to shimmer through a range of colours from deepest chestnut through browns and oranges to a gleaming old gold. The bolero was a mixture of all those colours, chased in deep gold. And she had a bunch of small golden-yellow roses, sent that morning from one of her admirers. Perfect for her hair. </p><p>Admirers. She had admirers!  You couldn’t say they were courting her, but there were a few gentlemen who always claimed a dance, and who didn’t seem to think that her past mattered. After all, she had Count and Countess Vorsmythe as staunch supporters, and there were always a few Vorsmythe relatives ready to chat happily, in front of the assembled High Vor. Plus, of course, the considerable impact of Imperial approval, working with the Empress every day. </p><p>Yes, the chestnut gown, with golden flowers in her hair. Happiest decision she’d made all day. </p><p> </p><p>Maxim let the shower run hot, and then cold. Well, it had been an interesting day. And it wasn’t done yet. </p><p>After he arrived home from the Residence he just had time for a quick planning session with Oncle Abelard and Tante Eloise before lunch with Gorlov’s grandfather, the oldest armsman ever.</p><p>The stories the man told were sad, hilarious, and sometimes absolutely frightening. There was a bit of confusion until he realised that ‘the Old Count’ was Gruncle Ludo’s father. He’d been a fine man and a good Count, apparently. Ludo wasn’t mentioned. Gradually Maxim realised that the old armsman wasn’t just having a nice luncheon and a pleasant chat; he was deadly serious, and trying to make sure that this new Count – untrained and unexpected – would do his best for the District. This man took him seriously, and really cared about his success. Maxim started asking questions, collecting useful tips. There were things he’d never even considered.</p><p>Then came a tour of the House, finding a stunning number of hiding places, and secret passages from one section to another, and in two cases right outside the building. “Some of these the armsmen will know, my lord. But those special ones I showed you – those are only known to the Count and the Chief Armsman.”</p><p>There were also some items found in a couple of the hidey-holes. Ranging from a few small wood or iron chests containing gold coins, jewellery and rolls of Barrayaran marks; to some rather unsettling items for personal enjoyment. “I’ll deal with it all later.”  Move on, quickly. </p><p>After genuinely grateful thanks he sent the old man back to his quarters, for a good rest.</p><p>Then came the businessmen. The possibility of a training base in his District wasn’t mentioned, but he suspected that Mark Vorkosigan, at least, had some idea. Barrayaran politics being what it was, all of them were probably in the know. </p><p>Maxim was able to negotiate to get all of his needs, all of his major wants, and most of his minor ones. The men were keen to get in on the ground floor of what had every chance of being a successful venture. Smiles and handshakes all round.  </p><p>Then a few hours to check over the documents from the Residence. He vid’d a convenient legal relative who couldn’t see any problems, so he signed them and scanned the lot back to the Lord Auditor’s comconsole. </p><p>Now he just had to put on his most formal Countly outfit, and sway off to the Residence for a High Vor drinking competition.</p><p>“Do I pass?”</p><p>Kravik surveyed his Count, now fully dressed and ready for the fray.</p><p>“You do me proud, sir. A fine figure of a man.”</p><p>“Don’t smirk. Remember, the kilt is part of your livery, too. You’ll be feeling the breeze for the rest of your career.”</p><p>“Very healthy, I’m sure, sir. The ladies are almost ready.”</p><p>“That means I’ll be waiting for a while. Tell them to have the groundcar ready. I’ll take two of you, but you’ll both have to wait with the vehicle. You can’t get in until you’re proper armsmen. I’ll ping when we’re ready to come home.”</p><p>Maxim headed into the main building, had a quick look at the ballroom and some of the rooms on the floor below, then down the main stairs to the Great Hall. Someone was waiting at the foot of the stairs. </p><p>“Yvgeny, what are you doing?”</p><p>“Waiting.”</p><p>“Why are you wearing… what is that?”</p><p>“My House uniform. I’m a cadet. We went to the tailor today, and he’d started on the armsmen’s livery – I think he’s scared of Verity. Anyway, he adapted one of them for me, and it was just delivered. Mother had sent designs for everything. I’m a cadet, that’s what he said. And I do like this – it’s fun, isn’t it.”</p><p>“Yvgeny, there are some challenges to wearing a kilt in public. Just be careful when sitting down, unless you wish to advertise.”  Maxim frowned, “Wait a minute – I didn’t say you were coming with us. Yvgeny, I’m not taking you within a mile of the Residence. Go away.”</p><p>“But I’m all dressed and ready!”</p><p>“Get undressed. NO!  Not here!  Yvgeny go back to the library and play with the ghosts. I’m not taking you with us tonight. Anyway, they have to be told that you’re coming, and ImpSec will probably shoot you on sight. Ahhh on second thoughts…”</p><p>“Verity called them. She had to finalise your party for the security check. A very nice lady in the social secretary’s office said that as a sitting Count you can bring selected relatives with you.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t select you if you were the last relative I had!”</p><p>“Ohhh look at my two handsome men!  Verity and I will be so proud of our escorts tonight.” Olga drifted into the Hall.</p><p>Maxim sighed, “Mother, he’s not invited and he’s not going.”</p><p>“Don’t be silly, dear, he’s wearing his kilt and everything. Don’t swing it around like that, Yvgeny. But I am pleased to see that you’re being very …authentic.”</p><p>Verity hurried up, “Oh are we all ready? Good. Come along, then, we don’t want to be late.”</p><p>“Verity, you’re the one holding us up!  And Yvgeny isn’t coming.”</p><p>“Don’t be so mean, Maxim. It’s good for him to mingle with people.”</p><p>“Fine. We’ll take him out. We just won’t bring him back again.  We can set him free in a park, or something.”</p><p>Maxim followed the swirling skirts of his family, grumbling all the way to the car. But at least he wouldn’t be the only one wearing a kilt tonight. Not that he’d let the others know that he was even slightly pleased about that. Wouldn’t want to encourage them.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Shall We Dance?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Posting a bit faster because the chapters are lining up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Count Vortaxis. Madame Olga Vorkalloner Vortaxis. Madame Verity Vortaxis Vorventa. Yvgeny Vortaxis.”  The armsmen standing by the Emperor announced the party in a clear voice. It didn’t carry far, of course, but a display line running around the top of the walls in the ballroom started running their names on the list of those present. </p><p>Maxim herded his family forward, towards the Emperor and Empress. </p><p>“Good evening, Count Vortaxis. It’s good to see you again. I understand from Lord Vorkosigan that you’ve already signed the application forms and sent them through to him. Thank you.”</p><p>“Sire, I owe you the thanks. It will make a big difference for my District.”</p><p>The Empress nodded to Olga, “I’m so pleased to meet you. We have several of your works in the Residence.”</p><p>“I’m honoured, my lady.”</p><p>“I hope you enjoy your stay in Vorbarr Sultana.”</p><p>“I’m organising some work for a new exhibition, and I want to do some work here. The views of the river, and Vorhartung Castle, are inspiring.”</p><p>“I - We – look forward to seeing your new works.”</p><p>Gregor tuned to Verity, “We understand that your husband is on ship duty at the moment.”</p><p>“Yes Sire, my brother kindly invited me to stay with him. The poor thing was lonely in that big, empty House.”</p><p>Maxim spluttered slightly.</p><p>“…and he’s kindly found a few things for me to do, so that I won’t be bored.”</p><p>There was an Imperial gleam. Gregor didn’t smile much, but he was definitely pleased with the Vortaxis party. </p><p>Laisa looked at Yvgeny, hovering on the outskirts of the group, “You are Count Maxim’s brother? Are you staying with him too?”</p><p>There was a mutter from the Count that could have been ‘Temporarily.’</p><p>“Yes, my lady. I’m working in his library. There’s some amazing old real books there.”</p><p>The armsman gave them a meaningful look, and Maxim managed to sweep his party into the ballroom. </p><p>They paused in the entrance for a moment, unaware of their impact on the spectators. Then an old friend descended on Olga, to sweep her away for a happy session about other times, and other places. Verity saw some friends and disappeared into the crowd.  Yvgeny wandered over to study the decorative panelling. </p><p>“Thank you for the documents, Count. You were very prompt.”  Lord Vorkosigan was at his elbow.</p><p>“Fastest application I’ve ever made.”</p><p>“Timing is everything.” The Lord Auditor seemed very satisfied with himself, “Now, we have quite a bit to do. I hope you realise that this sort of thing,” he waved a hand to encompass the swirling crowds, “is actually an opportunity to get some serious work done. You’ll need to meet Counts Vorbretten and Vormoncrief, and the shining lights – or dim bulbs – in the main parties. Make nice noises to them all. They all know what’s going on, but we have to go through the motions.”</p><p>“Like swimming in sewage.”</p><p>“I see you’re a fast learner. There’s Count Vormoncrief over there. Might as well get him out of the way first. Then things can only get better. No, no, walk a little slower. Saunter. This is a casual meeting. We’ll just chat with friends, and wander aimlessly around, just like everyone else. So tell me, Count Vortaxis, have you ever thought about getting a kitten?”</p><p> </p><p>Anastasia had danced with all her regular admirers, several Vorsmythe relatives,  a few town clowns and Count Vorvolk. She enjoyed dancing with Henri, he didn’t flirt or give her embarrassing compliments, he just chatted about life in the Residence, harmless bits of gossip, and the odd scandal or two.</p><p>“I see Gregor and Laisa are finished with the receiving line,”  he observed as the dance ended, “I don’t think anyone realises how much time Emperors spend standing up. It must have been agony for the old ones in times past.”</p><p>“But then people had to actually kneel for the Emperor. Think of the strain on the knees if you worked for them, and had to do that every time you saw them.”</p><p>“We live in better times.”</p><p>Yes, she enjoyed Henri. He was restful.</p><p>After thanking her for the dance and depositing her safely beside a potted palm, Henri wandered off to find his wife. Anastasia saw Lord Vorkosigan swirl past with his wife – such a lovely, graceful, patient woman. All that dancing makes a girl thirsty, she decided to find a waiter and grab an apple juice before the next partner came along. She stepped out past the palm and – </p><p>“BWOOFF!”</p><p>This time, thank the gods, they didn’t fall over. </p><p>“I’m so sorry I – oh. It’s you.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry I – ah. We meet again.”</p><p>She tried to give him an airy smile, “Our second date. How about you take this side of the room, and I’ll move over there, then we’ll both be safe.”  She started to walk away. Dammit, he was wearing that kilt again. That’s so unfair. Was it hot in here? </p><p>“Wait, please – I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced.”</p><p>“You’re the new Count Vortaxis, I recognised the…crest on your jacket.”</p><p>“And you are…?”</p><p>“Um… Ana-… Ana. I’m Anna.”</p><p>“Anna, it’s nice to meet you standing up. No! Wait, no, I didn’t mean – sorry. Let’s start fresh. Hello, Anna, I’m Maxim. Would you like a cool drink? Hot drink? Dance? Maple Mead ice cream? A walk in the rose garden? A free kitten?”</p><p>She had to laugh. “You’re giving away kittens?”</p><p>“No, but Lord Vorkosigan is. I assumed it was normal High Vor behaviour. I haven’t mingled much with the High Vor until now. You don’t get many Imperial balls on space vessels.”</p><p>“Well of course not. There’s nowhere for the band to sit.”</p><p>“Let’s start and work down the list. Cool drink?” He snagged a passing waiter. </p><p>The wine was welcome. She sipped carefully, lost in this strange, suspended moment.</p><p>Do it, said a little inner voice. Have fun. Just enjoy being a young woman who’s wearing a pretty dress and dancing with a handsome lord. This is the dream. Forget names, forget tomorrow. Just have now. Be Anna, just for a moment.</p><p>They sipped, then abandoned the glasses on a handy windowsill. Maxim offered his arm, “Dance with me, my lady?”</p><p>It was perfect. She reached for his arm, and…</p><p>…and stepped back. </p><p>“Maxim, I’m sorry. I can’t dance with you. I’m – I’m not Anna. I’m Anastasia. I’m the family embarrassment. I’m the last of Ludo. Go and find a nice non-traitorous girl to dance with. I’m so sorry.”  </p><p>She turned on her heel and headed away.</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. After the Ball is Over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Remember, Maxim is very direct.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was better this way. No point hanging around like a bad smell – the Vortaxis clan didn’t want or need her. She –</p><p>A large hand closed around her arm, spun her around and then she was out on the dance floor. His arms closed around her, “Dance, my lady.”</p><p>Automatically she started moving, thankfully it was a simple country dance. </p><p>“Maxim – Count Vortaxis – ”</p><p>“Anastasia. You sent me a message. A rather bossy missive instructing me on how to be Count Vortaxis.”</p><p>“I – no, I didn’t mean – ”</p><p>“A list. Of instructions. I thought you sounded like a very managing little bossyboots.”</p><p>“No! I – it wasn’t supposed to – ”</p><p>“Bossyboots.”</p><p>Something started to smoulder, deep inside. “Excuse me? I was doing my best to help someone who obviously had no clue at all. And, more importantly, to help OUR District. And I was being TACTFUL and not inflicting my treasonous, unwanted self on you and your family. I’ve been working, and… and doing good things… and not interfering… and… and stop LAUGHING you dolt!”</p><p>Maxim smiled down at her, “I thought you were a bossyboots who gave me some very good ideas, and information that I needed.”</p><p>“And you – what?”</p><p>“It was good advice. I followed it.” </p><p>“…oh. Well, then.”</p><p>“Well then, Bossyboots.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that!”</p><p>“Don’t tell me what to do.”</p><p>“Well, I can call you… something.”</p><p>“Something? Now there’s an odd name.”</p><p>She tried to frown, but a small giggle escaped. “You’re the most irritating man ever!  How’s that for a name?”</p><p>“The most irritating COUNT ever, thank you very much. Respect my high-and-mighty rank.”</p><p>“High and mighty – that suits you.”</p><p>“And don’t you forget it.”</p><p>They spun around the floor, just for a moment in their own world. </p><p>But the music always has to stop. And the world comes back. Maxim guided her towards the side of the room, “I’d like you to meet my mother, and sister. It’s time you got to know the family.”</p><p>“Count Vortaxis, a moment please.”  A large chartreuse and scarlet wall loomed up. </p><p>“Count Vorharopoulous, isn’t it? Perhaps I could see you a little later.”</p><p>“No, that’s fine. I won’t interrupt your business. Or your politicking.”  She slid away from him. “Thank you for the dance, Count Vortaxis. It was nice to meet you.”</p><p>Suddenly she felt cold, without his hands on her, without his body so close. </p><p>Ohhh this is bad. This is so badly bad. Being polite is one thing, but this is just plain unfair. He has no right to be so nice when he’s so gorgeous. And in a kilt. </p><p>Anastasia danced with three lieutenants, a Count’s Heir, and two town clowns. She laughed. She flirted. She chatted with her Vorsmythe relatives. She could feel the jealous female eyes following her. No girls, you’re safe, it’s hunting season. Go for it, one of you will be a Countess by this time next year. I’m no threat. Look, here’s me dancing with other people. Flirting. I’m nobody, I’m no threat. </p><p>She wasn’t watching him walk around the ballroom, not at all. And she didn’t acknowledge who ‘he’ was. </p><p>Maxim wheeled and dealed. He smiled. He must have met nearly every Count in the Council. </p><p>“Vortaxis House looks beautiful now,” Rene Vorbretten smiled, “And the gardens are superb. Tatya loves hearing the children play – that’s the most stupendous play area. It’s every child’s dream.”</p><p>“It’s just to keep them out of the way.”</p><p>“Yes. And I notice that you find a few moments every day to spend some time there, with them. Your sister’s children, I believe?”</p><p>“Well…someone has to keep them in order.”</p><p>“Horsey rides? Playing catch with them? Tatya says that whenever they’re laughing the loudest, you’re there.”</p><p>Maxim shrugged, and grinned. “Just being a good uncle. Do you have any…?”</p><p>“Two. A boy and a girl, six and three. We’ve started another boy.”  </p><p>“You’ll have to bring them over to meet the neighbours. The two who are out of the replicators, anyway.”</p><p>Rene laughed, “They’d adore that. And Tatya can visit with your sister. She’s so pleased that the place next door is… er…”</p><p>“No longer looking like a cross between a prison and a haunted house?”</p><p>“You’ve done a lot for the neighbourhood.”</p><p>Several of the more impressionable young ladies almost swooned at the sight of Counts Vorbretten and Vortaxis together. That was definitely a high eye-candy quotient. </p><p>The night went on. He avoided a dozen matchmaking mothers. He talked with more Counts, danced with Countesses, listened without committing himself to careful political pitches from every party. </p><p>He realised that it was all choreographed, all these careful conversations. Everyone knew about his application for the base, everyone had already decided to vote for it, just to get some peace from the deadlock. But everyone had to be courted, and given the feeling that their vote was important. Politics. It was so much simpler when you could just shoot the enemy. But that wouldn’t work with Counts. They’d just appoint more. </p><p>He kept on circling the room.</p><p>Somehow, wherever he was, she wasn’t.</p><p>Finally it was over. The Emperor and Empress left, the Vor crawling races had lapsed into comatose mumbling, and the more senior Counts were gently snoozing on the comfortable couches. Maxim collected his relatives and ushered them down to the groundcar. </p><p>“Ohhhh Maxim that was a lovely night!” His mother stretched out comfortably, “I’d forgotten how many good friends I have here in the Capital. I’ve been invited to a luncheon tomorrow, and a High Tea in a few days’ time. I’ve also had several people ask about my work – it’s become very popular. There’s a lot of interest in my next exhibition. Would you mind if I stayed on a little longer? The studio, the views along the river, and time with all of you and the children – I’m really enjoying it.”</p><p>“Stay as long as you want. I have plenty of space in that stately pile. I can have someone pack up the rest of your stuff and send it here if you want, then you won’t be paying rent for an empty house. And any time you want to have guests over, just ask them and tell the cook what you’d like.  Luncheon on the terrace overlooking the river? High Tea in the greenhouse? A full dinner in one of the dining rooms? The place needs life. Go ahead and wake it up.”</p><p>“Maxim… thank you. I’m very fortunate.”</p><p>“Having a talented artist on the premises gives some class to the place, and it certainly needs it. So, Verity, did you enjoy yourself?”</p><p>“I met up with some of Orly’s cousins, and some girls I knew before I was married.  It was so much fun catching up, I’ve been so busy with the children that I’d dropped out of things a bit. Oh, and they all like your kilt.”</p><p>“Well, you can invite any of your friends over, as well. So long as they don’t want to see me in the kilt every day.”</p><p>They all stretched out in silence for a while.</p><p>“I had a good time too,” Yvgeny remarked.</p><p>“You were talking to the wall the last time I saw you.”</p><p>“I was looking at the timber inlays. Marvellously detailed work.”</p><p>“So who else did you talk to, apart from the wall?”</p><p>“Professora Vorthys. Lovely woman. She saw me looking at the wall inlays and we got talking about old craftsmanship. She’s a history professor at the university. I told her about some of the old books in the library, she was most interested. She’s coming to afternoon tea tomorrow to look at your books.  Then I saw someone I went to school with, Leon. It was nice seeing him again, we talked for a while. His mother works at the Imperial Science Institute, but in Administration – she doesn’t get to blow things up or anything. His father is a General, running something or other – he’s posted to Vorbarr Sultana, anyway.  Then I danced with a lot of girls.”</p><p>“What did you talk about with them?”  Maxim was intrigued. </p><p>“You, mostly.”</p><p>“Please tell me you haven’t invited them over, too.”</p><p>“No. Would you like me to? It looked like you’d found one of your own.”</p><p>Verity gave an unladylike chortle, “Yes, Maxim, who was that girl? THAT girl. You seemed totally absorbed.”</p><p>“That was our cousin, Anastasia.”</p><p>There was a rather frozen silence. </p><p>“Gruncle Ludo’s grand-daughter? That Anastasia? Trial for treason in the Council of Counts Anastasia?”</p><p>“Yes. Her.”</p><p>“Oh. She… she looked nice.”</p><p>“She is nice.”</p><p>“Are we going to meet her?”</p><p>“She doesn’t think so. Thinks she’s an embarrassment for the family. A sad reminder of old Ludo. Wants to let us start fresh.”</p><p>Olga watched her children. Maxim was at his most blank and neutral. Verity was leaning forward, interested and curious. Yvgeny was looking out the window.</p><p>Verity went on, slowly, “So she doesn’t want to meet us?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No visits? No contact?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Maxim, is that what you want?”</p><p>“I’m… not sure.”</p><p>Olga patted his hand, “Then you’ll have to do something about it.”</p><p>“What can I do? I don’t even know how to contact her. I don’t have her comconsole code. She sent me a message once, but it was from an office terminal in the Residence. Is she working there? If she is, they wouldn’t tell me a thing.”</p><p>“She was at the reception tonight. If you keep going to social events at the Residence, you’ll see her sooner or later.”</p><p>Verity frowned, “I might be able to get something from the social secretary’s office.”</p><p>“No. No pressure, no fuss. I’ll think of something.”</p><p>Yvgeny was still staring out the window, “She works for the Empress. She audits the accounts for some of the charities the Empress sponsors. She does special investigations for the Empress, too. She lives in the Residence.”</p><p>They all stared at him, “How do you know all that?”</p><p>“I asked someone.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You like her. I wanted to know about her. They told me.”</p><p>“Uh… thank you.”</p><p>The groundcar went past the fountain – it had lights in different shades of blue playing on the water. No slime in sight. The walls of the House glowed a warm dark gold from the lights set around the courtyard. Flowers were dark colours in the shadowy corners. Windows gleamed. It was beautiful, and clean. Maxim wanted to show it to her, wanted to prove that he was doing a good job.</p><p>Why did her approval matter?</p><p>Little Miss Bossyboots. She didn’t want to know any of them. Didn’t care. </p><p>Except that she’d taken the time to send him a list of things he’d need to know, to help him get started. </p><p>Ok, this was a problem. He solved problems. He felt a … an interest. Just a bit of a twinge. Ok, large twinge. </p><p>Maybe it meant something. Maybe it didn’t.</p><p>So… he needed more information. He needed to see her again. He needed time with her to decide if he wanted more.</p><p>Yes, that’s all it was. Research. Information-gathering. Just to find out. It was probably just novelty value. The shock of falling over her. Twice. Maybe if he got to know her there’d be nothing more, just cousinly feelings. </p><p>He had to get to know her.</p><p>Purely for research. </p><p>He could do this. It was just like any other campaign. Find the target, survey the territory,  plan the approach, take the target. </p><p>That worked well with space ships and pirate strongholds. Hopefully it worked with women, too. </p><p>“Maxim? Are you spending the night in the groundcar?”</p><p>“Coming, sister dear. Just planning all the jobs for tomorrow.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Just Like Any Other Campaign</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nuts and bolts of being a Count. It's not all balls and receptions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning at breakfast Verity was lost in a haze of plans for the Big Night; the Vortaxis Ball was going to be the highlight of the Season, she’d make sure of it.  She was muttering “Check the supper tables… cards… extra staff… must discuss the menu with Ma Kennerli…”,  and planning on measuring things and ransacking the cellars. </p><p>“Don’t forget about the move to the District after that!”</p><p>“That’s all organised. But we need to talk about the cost of all this. I don’t want to ruin you, or the District, for a party.”</p><p>Maxim sighed, “Ok, Verity, we need to talk. I’ve been meaning to find time for this. We’ll have a chat after breakfast.”</p><p>His mother was soon ushered out to the car by Gorlov, in his best armsmanly manner; she was going to look at an exciting new gallery, and then she was off to a luncheon with her old friends. Over breakfast she’d had a planning discussion with Maxim, and he told Verity to book their mother a trip back to the Southern Continent. </p><p>It was just a quick overnight run to supervise the packing of all the artworks for her new exhibition and then pack up everything else and give her landlord notice. Maxim had made a spirited attempt to send Yvgeny with her, “You’d like some company on the trip. And you don’t have to bring him back, I’m sure he’d be happy down there.”</p><p>“Maxim, behave. You’ve been trying to give him away since he was two.”</p><p>“He was a very irritating two-year-old.”</p><p> Olga was inspired by her new studio beside the river, and was already planning a series of artworks for her next show. She’d fallen in love with Vorhartung Castle at all times of the day, the massive stone building going through so many different patterns of light and shadow as the sun moved and the weather changed. Then there was the glittering face of Vorbretten House, a bold statement of a new age. And Vortaxis House itself, reborn and beautiful, the stone seeming almost alive; and other glimpses of the colours and vibrant changes in Vorbarr Sultana. She’d been away from the Capital for years, and was now seeing it as if for the first time. Her fingers would twitch as she planned her new works. </p><p>She was sounding quite excited, Maxim could see the artist rising in her again. She’d do the run to her old home and back again in a few day’s time, while the gallery started the publicity for her new exhibition. A week before the grand ball at Vortaxis House the exhibition would open in a gallery beside the Great Square. It was a prime location, and the gallery was eager for the latest Olga VV works to be put on display.  She was thinking of calling it, ‘A Voice From The South’. Unless something better came to mind. Hopefully, it would.</p><p>Maxim knew that his mother agonised over every detail of her exhibitions. Luckily Verity was around to help; she was a bit busy organising the ball, and the trip to the District, but he explained that with some sensible time management she’d be able to help with the gallery opening as well. </p><p>He smiled; the fireworks over the breakfast table when he’d said that were epic. He’d seconded some of the nearly-armsmen to Verity for the duration; either to help or restrain her, whatever was needed the most.</p><p>Yvgeny finished his breakfast and headed off, buzzing around the library, excited about afternoon tea with the Professora. He was reverently setting out some of the choicest tomes for her examination. He’d also found some old boxes of documents; letters and accounts from times gone by. It was all very exciting, apparently, if you liked illegible scribble.</p><p>Verity leaned towards him, “So, brother, talk. I don’t want to bankrupt you, so just how mad can I go?”</p><p>“Well, the thing is… we’ve been investigating Ludo’s finances. It’s been complicated. Most of the money he squeezed out of the District was deposited in the bank; he seems to have just accessed it frequently to … I don’t know… stare at the numbers, or something. We’ve also been finding stashes of money and credit chips around the House; I don’t know if it was his emergency funds, or if he’d just forgotten that it was there. But it’s more than enough to run the House for a couple of years, which gives me a breathing space on that.”</p><p>“He really was on the far side of sane, wasn’t he.”</p><p>“And accelerating. But there’s more – there’s personal funds, family money that came from the Old Count. Not District money, it’s a whole separate income stream. It doesn’t seem to be District money at all, it came from a few generations of dowries. Our ancestors tended to marry well.  The Old Count – I wish I’d known him, the more I find out about him, the more impressed I am – was brilliant at investing wisely. He put a lot of funds into real estate – I, personally, now own nineteen properties around the Capital. Nineteen!”</p><p>“So  the average rent times nineteen…”</p><p>“No, not nineteen apartments. Nineteen whole properties. Some apartment buildings, and some office blocks, often with shops on the ground floor. Ludo doesn’t seem to have done much with them, the rents are set at normal levels, and a company manages them and handles the upkeep on a permanent contract – and the Old Count picked a good and honest firm for that. Some of the money funded Ludo’s living expenses, but they were pretty low, for a Count. I think he almost… forgot about them. He was so focussed on the District. And the worst thing is I don’t think he liked his District, there’s a few notes of his in with the official accounts, and from his comments I think he felt that they resented him. He thinks they wanted Bors as Count, and he was… well… punishing them. The family investments he’d inherited from the Old Count were pushed aside, left to the management company to look after,  and ignored; he just cared about getting money out of the District.”</p><p>“Accelerating fast for sure. He really was a horrible man, and a lousy Count.”</p><p>“Verity, if I ever get like that…”</p><p>“Don’t worry. I’ll shoot you first.”</p><p>“Thanks. I think. Anyway, with the properties and the investments, I have ample funds to run this House, pay all the staff and armsmen and have regular social events – this is a big place, we need to fill it with life. I want to keep personal and District funds separate once things are on an even keel; have the House self-supporting through the investments here, with those investments covering family costs as well, and the District as prosperous and successful as it should be and being basically self-maintaining. As I get time I’m updating the investments, and there’s shares in quite a few companies - some have done brilliantly, some not so much. That needs attention, too. And I have ideas for some of those properties.  For now, I’ve cut back on the worst of Ludo’s systems in the District, and reduced District charges and taxes to reasonable levels. I have people making lists, and long-term plans, to use the funding I can give them in the best way possible – I’ll be returning the District money back to it quickly, but carefully, to get maximum result.  I’ll also have to subsidise some of the District work for a while, with my personal funds, until I get my commercial ideas for the District into action. But as for this first big bash – we need to make a splash, and I can afford it. This isn’t an indulgence, it’s an investment. I’m making contacts and building my image.”</p><p>“Maxim…. You’re rich!”</p><p>“Uh, yes. But it’s working money. I have to use it the best way I can.”</p><p>“So we can afford the acrobats?”</p><p>“No!  No acrobats, no fire eaters, no magicians. And no mimes, ever. I want this to be a big, NORMAL, ball. We’ll save the trapeze artists for another time.”</p><p>“Spoilsport.”</p><p>After Verity left Maxim went to his study and settled down to get some work done. Damn he missed his old career. What he wouldn’t give for a pirate attack. Anything would be better than facing the pile of documents on his desk, and the flashing light on the comconsole. </p><p>Nobody appreciated his sacrifice. He sighed, and faced the foe.</p><p>By lunchtime he’d set up several days of meetings in the District, more urgent now that the base was going to be there, and there were a few new ideas he was toying with; he’d sent out a few feelers and was waiting for some responses. He’d been in touch with the partners in the new foundry company to finalise some of the details of their agreement, sourced some equipment and other materials that he needed, and made appointments for meetings with several possible customers.  He’d organised deliveries, had a quick chat with Oncle Abelard, and then spent half an hour in the play area with the children. </p><p>Just before he headed out to the play area a delegation of men appeared in his office: the rest of the armsman-candidates were all honoured to accept his offer. Maxim thanked them formally, shook hands all round and sent them off to the ever-more-overworked tailor. Twelve was a good start, and his armsmen were a comfortable range in age from mid-fifties down to late twenties. The three experienced armsmen were already training the new ones, showing them the ropes and setting up a good, solid squad of men. He’d add a few more when he had time, selecting for the right ages and experience.  Maxim had already checked the military records of his new armsmen; they were skilled and experienced in ways that would warm the heart of any officer. </p><p>He smiled, remembering a conversation from the night before. </p><p>“Count Vortaxis, congratulations on your new position.”</p><p>He’d turned to see – “Lady Alys, how kind, thank you.”</p><p>“You’ll be busy with so much to organise. Have you given any thought to your armsmen?”</p><p>“I have three from Count Ludo’s score, all of them good and loyal men. The rest have retired, or moved on to other employment. And nine new applicants; ex-military, men with good solid training.”</p><p>She nodded, “That’s fine for dealing with terrorist threats, hostage situations and assorted forms of sabotage. But an armsman, especially for a Count who intends to launch into a busy social life, as you do, will need other skills. Social niceties that make all the difference; serving at dinners or other entertainments, how to address various important Barrayaran and Nexus identities, grooming of themselves and their lord, and so on. At the Residence we run training sessions for prospective armsmen, because they have to be able to cope in so many different situations.”</p><p>“My experienced armsmen are helping the new ones…”</p><p>“A good start, but hardly at the same level.”  A sweeping assertion, but probably correct; old Ludo hadn’t done much entertaining in the Capital, and his hunting parties in the District generally ended in drunken stupors for all concerned.  And Maxim didn’t think that Ludo would have cared much about being given the right knife to use with fish. “There’s some new training sessions starting up in a few days, for prospective armsmen to replace those we lost in recent sad events. Some other top-level Residence servitors and ImpSec personnel will come along, too, and I believe the Vorkosigans are sending a new armsman.  I’ll have my office send you the details. It would benefit yours  to take part.”</p><p>She nodded and sailed away after Maxim thanked her for the kind offer. </p><p>Well, offer…. Coming from the Residence it carried a bit more emphasis than that. But it was certainly a wonderful opportunity for his new men; possibly the old ones, too. He quickly hit the comconsole and booked them all in. It was an intensive course running over a week; parallel sessions running morning and afternoon. He’d booked half the men in each group so that there would always be some of them on duty at the House. </p><p>After his busy morning it was finally time for a nice relaxing lunch. With Yvgeny. Maxim glared at him, “So what’s the story on this Professora of yours? Young and lovely, is she?”</p><p>“Hmmm she’s lovely. A brilliant mind. The stories she knows about the Bloody Centuries are incredible. I think she has three children. She said one of them is a doctor at ImpMil.  I don’t know about the others. Her husband is an engineer.” </p><p>“Don’t tell her about your ghost, she’ll think you’re crazy.”</p><p>“He probably won’t drop in on us. He likes it when the Library is quiet.”</p><p>“Yvgeny, I… what is THAT!”</p><p>His brother looked up, “Where? What is what?”</p><p>“That… that furry thing.”</p><p>“This?” Yvgeny held up a squirming black and white ball of fur, “It’s a kitten. They sent it over from Vorkosigan House. Special delivery.”</p><p>“We don’t want…. Oh forget it. What’s the thing called?”</p><p>“I don’t know, it hasn’t told me yet.”</p><p>“Is it a boy it or a girl it?”</p><p>“Does that matter?”</p><p>“I’m sure that matters to the it. Anyway, give the thing a name and remember, you’re looking after it.  I’m getting a dog. A big one.”</p><p>“That’ll be nice. I like dogs, too. Can we get a –”</p><p>“No. Whatever it is, no.”</p><p>By the time they finished lunch the kitten was curled up in Maxim’s lap, purring. He carefully handed it back to his brother as he left the table.</p><p>Damn Vorkosigan. Thinks he can just send the thing over and then we can’t send it back. Special delivery indeed. He…</p><p>Maxim smiled.</p><p>Special Delivery. </p><p>He hurried off, calling for Kravik. This would require some planning.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Hello Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxim can be sneaky.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An hour later Maxim was at the security check at the Residence. He was wearing his everyday House uniform; less silver decoration, no tassels on his sporran, and no bonnet. But it did include a kilt. </p><p>“No, I don’t have an appointment with the Emperor. Or the Empress. I’m not here to see either of them. I have a special package to deliver to Mademoiselle Anastasia Vortaxis, she lives and works here. No, I can’t hand the package over, it has personal family items in it, I need to give it into her hands. I’m her cousin, her Count and the head of her family, and I have a right to see my relative.”</p><p>By sheer patient persistence he managed to talk his way through several layers of suspicious ImpSec examination. Finally he was issued with an armsman, and started on the long trek to his goal.</p><p>“Tell me, have you ever considered floatboards, or small floatcars, to get around here? You must walk miles in these corridors.”</p><p>“It has been suggested, my lord. But the walking is good exercise.”</p><p>Finally they arrived. He stepped up to the open door, and glanced in. She was there, totally absorbed in something on her comconsole. He watched her for a moment. Why did he have such an urge to see her again? She was beautiful, poised, even elegant in her simple Komarran pants and jacket. But that didn’t explain it. He’d met beautiful women before, some of them were absolutely stunning. He’d admired, sometimes sampled and enjoyed, but never felt this overpowering urge to just be with her, to see her smile. </p><p>That was it. The smile. And the glare, the way her eyes sparkled as she glared at the big oaf who kept falling over her. The shy giggles she tried to hide. The small, satisfied grin that she was showing right now as she tapped at her comconsole and probably terrorised some hapless flower committee into obedience and fiscal responsibility. Her courage, her determination, her … just everything. But that smile, that warmed him right through. When he was able to make her smile. </p><p>He tapped the doorframe, “Anastasia – may I have a moment please?”</p><p>She looked up, confused and wary, “Maxim! I don’t… I’m not sure…”</p><p>“This is an official visit. Family business.” He took the box from the armsman with a quick word of thanks. “I have some items here that I think should go to you. We sorted the possessions left by your brother and grandfather.”  A sad shadow, but it quickly passed. He placed the box on her desk, then pulled a chair over and sat down.  “I’m sorry if this gives you any pain, but you might want some of these things.”</p><p>Carefully, as if it might explode, she opened the box. There were a few holocubes inside, and some old-fashioned display pictures of her family in early, happy times. A signet ring that had belonged to her father. A sad, once-fluffy bear, “Mr Wimbles!  Ohhh I missed him so much!”  She cuddled him for a moment, lost in her childhood memories. Then she put the items back, topped by the bear, and pushed the box to the side, “I’ll look at it all tonight. Thank you for thinking of me, I do appreciate it. There’s some happy memories there as well as the sad ones.”  She rested her hand on the box for a moment. </p><p>Maxim carefully projected relaxation and calm. “I’m glad that we met last night, it’s good to stop any family rifts forming. Oh, and Rodan tells me that he’s met you a few times, at the Fine Arts Academy.”</p><p>“Yes, he and Natalie are strong supporters, they were at most of the fundraisers.”</p><p>“Are you interested in all things artistic? My mother has a new exhibition of her work in a week or so. At that gallery on the Great Square. She’s very excited about it.” He kept his voice gentle, smooth – a hunter slowly approaching the prey. “She’s decided to move up here for a while, so we’ve set up a studio for her in one end of the greenhouse in the garden and she’s just loving the view of Vorhartung Castle.”</p><p>“You’ve cleaned out the greenhouse? I’m so pleased, it was beautiful once.”</p><p>“And the other one, too – we have the pool all ready for use, at last. There was some problem with the filter system but it’s fine now.”</p><p>“I used to love the pool.”  She sounded wistful. </p><p>“I suppose someone will have to teach Verity’s children to swim. I’ll take them to the pool one day and toss them in. Hopefully they’ll float.”</p><p>She couldn’t stop a quick giggle, “I think you’re actually a very indulgent uncle. I’m sure you’ll fish them out again.”</p><p>Maxim stood up to go, “Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. Thank you for your time.”  He turned to go, not missing the fleeting look on her face – regret? Longing? The impetuous urge to throw herself into his arms?  Regretfully, probably not that one. “Goodbye, Anastasia.”</p><p>“…goodbye, Maxim.”</p><p>At the door he turned, “Oh, if you ever want to pop by and see how the old place has changed, feel free to just come, any time.”  He turned again, stepping briskly to the door, then stopped, “I nearly forgot!  Ma Kennerli sends her regards.”</p><p>He walked out the door. Anastasia stared at the space, suddenly the room seemed so empty.</p><p>Then he popped back into the doorway again, “Just wondering… I don’t suppose you’re free for coffee today? After you’ve finished work?”</p><p>“Free? Coffee? Today? After work? I don’t - ”</p><p>“Good. This afternoon, my place. I’ll send a car. Ma Kennerli might even be able to rustle up a sweet bun or something. See you then.”  </p><p>“Wait, no – what? No, I didn’t – I can’t - ”</p><p>But this time he really was gone. </p><p>Maxim sauntered along the corridor, feeling very pleased with himself. Yes, things were going well. He smiled at the armsman, “Mission accomplished. It’s a good day.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord. I just had a call on my wristcom, from the Emperor’s secretary. The Emperor would be grateful if you could stop by for a quick word.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Yes Sire, No Sire, anything you want Sire.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's just a suggestion, of course....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were several people – a couple of self-important Counts and a tired-looking General – waiting in the Emperor’s outer office. They glared as Maxim was waved straight through by the secretary. He shed the armsman at the door. </p><p>“Sire.”  The Emperor was in a dark suit today. Maxim noticed Lord Auditor Vorkosigan hovering around, in his usual dark-grey suit. He wondered if the man wore the same suit every day, or if he had a whole closet full of almost-identical dark-grey suits. “Lord Vorkosigan.  Thank you for the kitten. It was so… unexpected.”</p><p>“Would you like another one? You don’t want it to be lonely.”</p><p>“It has my brother for company.”</p><p>“I hope that’s no bother.”</p><p>“The kitten will just have to make allowances.”</p><p>Gregor laughed, “You have an odd opinion of your brother.”</p><p>“Everyone has that one embarrassing relative, sire. He’s mine.”</p><p>“I know how you feel.”  The emperor glanced at the Lord Auditor, then almost smiled as he led the way to the seats at the other end of the room. The Auditor muttered something that sounded like ‘…Ivan…’, and joined them.</p><p>Maxim sat, and waited politely. He had a calm, neutral expression that had served him well through many negotiations with opposing forces, defeated enemies, and outraged superior officers; he’d learned it during interviews with teachers, headmasters and a few Municipal Guards. Ah, sweet memories of youth.  He was just hoping this wasn’t about Anastasia. Things could get nasty. </p><p>Gregor waited as an armsman offered tea and coffee, poured their selections efficiently, and then left silently. Maxim’s men might not quite reach Vorbarra-armsman level on this special course they were doing, but he hoped they’d get close. </p><p>“Count Vortaxis, thank you for coming. We understand that you’re settling in well to your new role.”</p><p>“Yes, sire. There’s a great deal to do, but things are starting to fall into place.” He still didn’t know why he was there. Had he done something wrong? Forgotten something? Offended someone important? Had Yvgeny run amok? </p><p>“You certainly have a full schedule coming up. Your mother’s exhibition, the vote in the CoC about the training facility in your District, a major ball at Vortaxis House, followed by an official District visit.”</p><p>“Yes. I’ll be taking the oaths of my first dozen armsmen at that time, too.”</p><p>“Excellent. You have a group of good men there.”</p><p>“Yes, sire.”</p><p>Conversation paused. No hints yet. Maybe Gregor called all of his Counts in for random, irrelevant conversations?</p><p>Lord Vorkosigan spoke up, “Your sister is a very capable organiser. She’s sent the planned guest list for the ball through to ImpSec for checking, already.”</p><p>“Before she married she worked for a business that managed several touring theatre companies, a few orchestras, and a travelling circus.  She says it was good training for working for me.”</p><p>Small smiles, then, “It’s an interesting guest list.”</p><p>Maxim glanced at both men, “Yes.”  Wait and see where this was going.</p><p>Vorkosigan moved on doggedly, “Not just the usual suspects, that you’d expect at a High Vor ball. As well as a generous selection of High Vor, you have government, sciences, education, the arts, business, and – well, just about every slice of Barrayaran society. Plenty of military, and not just the General Staff.  Performers, creatives, writers and musicians, Vor of all levels, and proles, even the Komarran trade delegations – you’ve cast your net wide.”</p><p>Was there some rule he didn’t know? Nobody gave him ‘Countship for Dummies’.  </p><p>“Well, yes. Apart from the High Vor and General Staff, I’ve basically invited friends of the family, and people who are connected with us. My mother’s an artist, so she has an interest in many art forms and their creators. My sister worked with theatre companies and orchestras. I have relatives in the government, sciences, business, and so on. I’ve included some of my former fellow-officers. It is a wide-ranging mix, but I didn’t think it would cause any problems…?”</p><p>The emperor shook his head, “No problems at all, We are very pleased to see social recognition being given to so many of Our talented and hardworking subjects, Vor and prole alike. And this sort of event gives the opportunity for people to network and exchange ideas outside their usual scope.”</p><p>“Oh… good.”</p><p>So was this just a pat on the back? </p><p>Vorkosigan spoke up, “We were wondering if the invitation lists had been finalised, or if you had intended to cast your net a little wider.”</p><p>“As far as I know, Verity has finished the list.”  He glanced at the two men, “… but of course adjustments can be made…”</p><p>Lord Vorkosigan leaned back, carefully casual, “Are you considering any of the embassies? Or our other Nexus friends?”</p><p>What the hell were they after? And why couldn’t they just spit it out?</p><p>“Embassies? I suppose the Betans are long-standing allies.”</p><p>“There are others, of course.”</p><p>Maxim finished his coffee and sat back. “Gentlemen, let’s save us all a lot of time. What do you want me to do?”</p><p>Vorkosigan laughed out loud. Even the Emperor almost smiled. </p><p>The Lord Auditor choked back his delighted chortling, “I do so love working with military men. Such a refreshing change from politicians and criminals.”</p><p>“Oh, are they two separate groups?”</p><p>Gregor put down his coffee cup, “Count Vortaxis, We are in the middle of rather delicate negotiations with the Cetagandans. We’re also negotiating new treaties and business deals with certain other planetary powers. It is in Our interests to present Barrayar as being forward-thinking, eager to be part of the Nexus. Moving away from our old, rigid ideas. A gathering such as yours sends exactly the right sort of message.”</p><p>“Or it would, if they were invited to see it?”</p><p>“Exactly. This isn’t a Request and Require, of course. It’s your own social gathering, in your own House. This is just a suggestion, for your consideration.”</p><p>“If your secretary could send a list of … suggestions… to my sister, she’ll organise the invitations. I understand she hopes to send them out in a day or so.”</p><p>There was a general release of tension, and an air of satisfaction. </p><p>They didn’t chat for much longer, the Emperor had people lined up in the outer office waiting for their precious minutes with him. And in Maxim’s experience, the less you said to your superiors, the less trouble you would attract. </p><p>Finally he was ushered out of the Residence by another armsman. Those poor men seemed to spend their whole time walking back and forth. Well, in between risking their lives for the Emperor. </p><p>And now he needed to get back home again. He had to organise coffee. And maybe even a sweet bun. He was having coffee with Anastasia!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Do or Don't</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There comes a time when a girl has to make her mind up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia was sitting still, staring at the wall, when Laisa walked in. </p><p>“Run out of things to do?”</p><p>“Never. Yes. No, sorry, what can I do for you my lady?”</p><p>“If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess that – he was here, wasn’t he!”</p><p>“He who? Yes, he. Here. Oh I’m sorry, I can’t think straight. This is so wrong.”</p><p>Laisa settled comfortably into the chair. His chair. He sat there.  “Tell me all about it.”</p><p>“That’s just it – there is no all. I mean, I’ve only met him a few times.”</p><p>“It only takes once.”  Laisa gave a secretive smile, “All it takes is one look.”</p><p>“But this would make so much trouble for him!  There’s High Vor matrons lining up to run their girls past him. They’re arguing over him already, and none of them have even met him!  They think he’s their property, that he must automatically belong to one of them. Imagine how they’d feel if he wanted me.”</p><p>“You’re High Vor. Higher than him – you’re the granddaughter of a Count, he’s only the great-grandson of one.”</p><p>“Yes, but – I’m not exactly a sweet little Vor bud.”</p><p>“Well, you do have a few years on them. But that’s good, you’ve been to university – two of them. You’ve lived on another planet. You’ve worked, you have excellent skills, contacts, and poise.”</p><p>“Oh… thank you. But none of that matters. I’m a convicted traitor.”</p><p>“Technically, you weren’t convicted. I got you out before any vote was taken. And in the end Gregor simply pronounced the verdict – as he is entitled to do, by Imperial Displeasure. The Council meeting was just because Ludo claimed the right, but it wasn’t necessary.  But you weren’t convicted by anyone.”</p><p>“But they all know!”</p><p>“All the Counts know, so by now I’d guess that the Countesses do too. So what do they know? They know that you were an innocent victim, tricked and forced by – by the plotters. They know that you were held captive. That you looked after my children,” her voice still trembled for a moment on that, “You saved their lives. Nothing can take that down. You saved them. And then you went back to save your brother – his honour, or his life.”</p><p>“I failed. On both counts.”</p><p>Laisa shook her head, “But you tried. It was pure Vor through and through. Loyalty to the Emperor, then loyalty to family. If you lived a few centuries ago there’d be songs about you. I know you worry that you’re some kind of second-class criminal, but they truly don’t see you that way. Some of them are actually jealous of you – you’re famous, you work for me, you’re attending social events at the Residence and you get to wear lovely clothes. And now you’re getting publicity for your special work for me.”</p><p>“I’ve been dodging the media. See – that’s another problem.”</p><p>“So you need to learn to handle them. Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I’d like to raise the profile of this new work we’re doing, and a few careful interviews … but we’ll talk about that later.”  She gave Anastasia a level look – almost Gregor-standard, “You are not seen as a traitor, or as a liability. You’re a brave woman who was placed in a horrendous situation, and who behaved with courage and honour throughout. True Vor. It’s time to let all those dark feelings go.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“So, what else?”</p><p>“Uh.. what else what?”</p><p>“What’s your next excuse?”</p><p>“It’s not an excuse!”</p><p>“The whole family thing?”  Laisa was almost grinning.</p><p>“It’s all so – so neat. The last cousin of one side of the family is married off to the new branch. It’d look so – so – so managed!”</p><p>“Again, I can’t imagine most Vor would disapprove. In fact, that would probably get their tick of approval too. A fine old tradition.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose, but he should have time to look around. See if he likes anyone else. Give the other girls a chance.”</p><p>“Test drive a few?” Laisa’s voice was dry, “By the looks of young Count Vortaxis, I think he’s already taken some willing partners around the block a few times.  He seems pretty sure of what he wants.”</p><p>Anastasia stared at the wall again for a moment, “He wants me to have coffee with him. This afternoon after work. He’s sending a car.”</p><p>“A nicely organised man.”</p><p>“He wants me to go to Vortaxis House.”</p><p>“Do you want to?”</p><p>“To see what it’s like now? Actually… well… I’d really love to see it. The poor house was so sad, so gloomy and dingy. The staff did everything they could inside, but the outside was totally neglected. I think Count Ludo liked it that way.”</p><p>Laisa just waited, watching her. </p><p>“But what if… I don’t… I suppose…”</p><p>“You don’t think you deserve this.”</p><p>“I think people will call me a desperate gold-digger!”</p><p>“Stop caring what they think. Thinking isn’t a salient feature of life for most people who make those kinds of judgements. Stop fussing about what they think, what they want, what they expect. It doesn’t matter.  Make your own decisions, stand by them, and live your life.”</p><p>Anastasia stared at her.  “Wow.”</p><p>“I’ve spent some time with the Vicereine.” </p><p>“Laisa, I’m sorry,” Anastasia sighed, “I’m being so dreary about this. I keep thinking I’m fine, be a pretty girl in a pretty dress dancing and having fun. And I am, and I do. But then all of a sudden I’m back where I started. You must be so sick of this. I’m so sick of this, and I’m me.”</p><p>“Anastasia, within just a few weeks you’ve been kidnapped, viciously attacked, tried for treason, had serious surgery, lost your brother and grandfather, changed to a new job that has all kinds of security and media pressures, and been given a huge amount of responsibility. You’ve done amazingly well to deal with so much so quickly. And you are, you’re getting there. And then along comes this man and he’s another kind of pressure.”</p><p>“Men. They do wreck your plans, don’t they.”</p><p>“Well, they redirect them.” Laisa stood up, “I’m giving you some orders.”</p><p>“Yes my lady.”</p><p>“Stop trying to save everyone. Stop worrying what they think. Stop stressing over all the things and people you can’t control. Do your job well. Enjoy your free time. If you want this man, go and have coffee. See if you want to go further – maybe once the kilt glamour wears off it’ll all fizzle out. Maybe not. Do what’s best for you, not for everyone else. Be Anastasia, as hard as you can. And you will feel down now and then, you’re still recovering from injuries and surgery and trauma. Be down, for a while, then take a breath and get going again.”</p><p>“You really have been listening to the Vicereine.”</p><p>Laisa smiled, “The correct answer is, ‘Yes, my lady.’ ”</p><p>“Yes, my lady.”</p>
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<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Bibliographic Bliss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All those dusty old books... libraries are special places.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim smiled as his groundcar turned through the entrance. She was coming for coffee this afternoon. Everything was going to be perfect. </p><p>There was an ImpSec sergeant standing beside his front door. </p><p>The man watched him approaching, with that particular ImpSec look that says ‘I know you outrank me, but I’ve got Horus eyes. I win.’</p><p>“Is there a problem, sergeant?”</p><p>“No problem, my lord. There’s an increased security presence around Vortaxis House because the Professora is here.”</p><p>“Is she in danger? Why does she need security?”</p><p>“Standard procedure, sir. After the recent events there are standing orders for increased security for all important government figures, auditors, and their families, for a few more weeks at least.”</p><p>“Why does the Professora rate a security team?”</p><p>“Because of her husband, sir. Lord Auditor Vorthys.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you.”</p><p>Maxim headed into his incredibly well-guarded house. The house where his brother was entertaining an Auditor’s wife. </p><p>Yvgeny. Dammit, this was all his fault. If ImpSec are still festooned around the place when Anastasia arrives, she’ll probably turn tail and leave. Maxim headed for the library.</p><p>The Professora was a neat little woman, grey-haired, comfortable, and currently making cooing noises over a pile of old – was that actually parchment? </p><p>“Count Vortaxis, it’s so good to see you!  Do you realise what you have here?”</p><p>Presumably ‘my idiot brother’ wasn’t the right answer.  “Old books and documents?”</p><p>She put one fingertip on the cover of a large, battered tome, “This… we thought it was lost! There are references to this book in early literature, but we only have a few quotes from it. It… it comes from the first of the Bloody Centuries. It’s all about the earliest establishment of the colony. You can’t imagine the value of this book!”  She was misty-eyed for a moment, full of emotion, “Count Vortaxis, this book – it’s an amazing find!  And there’s more!  This one,”  She tapped another book, “There are only incomplete copies. This has the four missing chapters! It changes so much about our view of our history!”</p><p>“I’m … glad that you’re having a productive visit.”  Old books weren’t Maxim’s area of expertise. </p><p>Gorlov quietly slid into the library, nodded to acknowledge his Count and then moved over to Yvgeny, “Afternoon tea is ready for you and the Professora, sir. On the top terrace.”</p><p>It took a while, but eventually the two bibliophiles were winkled out of the library and settled in the garden to enjoy tea and sweet treats. The top terrace of the gardens gave a wonderful view, and it all looked perfect. </p><p>Maxim looked down and found a kitten beside his foot. “Yvgeny, your furry parasite is looking for you.”</p><p>“I think she likes you best. Oh, and her name is Myrtle.”</p><p>“Honestly, Yvgeny, they should charge you with animal cruelty.”  Maxim gave the kitten a saucer of milk.</p><p>There was coffee, in several different forms, hot and cold. Teas in a variety of flavours. Scones, with strawberry jam – the real stuff, made from their own strawberries, and cream. Plus tiny cream cakes, two different kinds of shortbread, and lemon bougatsa.  There were delicately-embroidered linen napkins, silver teaspoons with little enamelled birds on the end, matching cake forks, and flower-patterned china. </p><p>If only the guests were different. Maxim wanted Anastasia beside him for this, not two mad historians. </p><p>“Count Vortaxis, your library is incredible!  And you have even more volumes there that were thought to be incomplete, or were lost forever! It’s the most incredible resource!”</p><p>“My ancestors must have been good collectors.” Hoarders, more likely. He shuddered to think what else they’d kept from the bad old days, and made a note to keep the children out of the dungeons. </p><p>The conversation flowed on. The words ‘treasure trove’ and ‘unparalleled resource’ were used. Maxim hoped they’d drink fast – he’d give her all the books in the damned place if she’d only go before Anastasia arrived. </p><p>The Professora nodded to Yvgeny, “That collection of letters and documents – it would be a marvellous study for your doctorate.”</p><p>Maxim turned to his brother. After Yvgeny finished school, nobody – who had ever met him for more than a few seconds – had any thought of a military career for him. He’d gone to stay with his Vorkalloner grandparents and attended the university there. He’d finished his degree, and his Masters, in various aspects of Barrayaran history, and seemed very happy. He must have been motivated, to manage to follow timetables and hand in work on time – a huge personal triumph for Yvgeny, who’d been known to get distracted and lost between his bed and the front door in a one-room apartment. He’d decided against a doctorate, at that time, and ended up working for Oncle Abelard, using his knowledge of old buildings to help with renovations and designs. Now, it seemed, the bug was biting again. </p><p>Maxim leaned forward to get his attention, “Yv, do you want to do a doctorate?” </p><p>Yvgeny paused in demolishing one of Ma Kennerli’s cream cakes, “I didn’t. Now I think I do.”</p><p>“Oh. Well then. Ok. Do it.”</p><p>Vortaxis family conferences tended to be streamlined. </p><p>The Professora – Helen now,  they were down to first names – leapt in with offers of help.</p><p>Maxim thanked her, Yvgeny was lost in plans for the future, or admiration of his cream cake, and was currently nonverbal. “We’ll have to speak to the head of the History Department at the university.”</p><p>“You are.”</p><p>“Oh. Well, that makes things simpler. Um… there may be some challenging moments when you’re dealing with Yvgeny.”</p><p>“There’s a university full of people like him, just a few kilometres from here. I’ve had practice. I won’t supervise his doctorate myself, but I know just the right person.”</p><p>“Thank you. I’ll have my sister contact the university to sort out all the details.”</p><p>Helen leaned forward, “Now, about those books – and this isn’t some bribe for your brother’s success, by the way, it’s two separate issues -  those books are a resource that simply can’t be lost again. And who knows what else is there?”</p><p>Maxim sipped his coffee, trying not to look at his chrono, “What if we scanned them, and published them? Made all that information readily available?”</p><p>“That – that would be ideal. Maxim, you do realise that you could make a great deal of money if you sent them to auction. Some collectors would pay a fortune for them, but they’d be lost to the rest of us.”</p><p>“If they have important knowledge it should be shared. I’m not planning on doing it completely for free, of course. We could scan the books, and publish a clear scan of the originals beside a modern translation, because those old books look barely legible and some of the language is archaic. I’ll provide the books, you and Yvgeny can do the translations. The university can publish them and do the publicity and sales. We’ll do a four-way split of the proceeds. You’ll be in charge of the project. How does that sound?”</p><p>She gaped at him for a moment, “It sounds like the results of a week of careful negotiations.”</p><p>“I don’t imagine we’ll make a fortune out of it. But it’s a way to get the information out there.”  Maxim sighed as he foresaw months of having his library infested by gleeful university personnel. Months? Probably years. He hadn’t even told them about the rest of the trunks of old documents in the cellars yet. “I’ll have my legal people draw up a contract.” Currently his ‘legal people’ was the wife of one of his cousins. </p><p>“Oh this is lovely. I’m parched, dying for a cuppa. Is the tea still hot?”  Verity slid into a spare seat, “Did you find any nice books?”</p><p>Yvgeny and the Professora brought her up to date, Helen rather more coherently. “Your doctorate!  Yvgeny, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad that dusty old library has been useful.”</p><p>Verity was closer to Maxim than Yvgeny on the issue of old books. </p><p>Gorlov hurried in with fresh tea, delicate little sandwiches, savory vol-au-vents, and caramel and chocolate tarts.</p><p>“Just in time for High Tea!  How perfect!”  Olga stepped out onto the terrace. “Look everyone, Natalie’s dropped by!”</p><p>“Hello all. I brought the rugrats over for a visit with Verity’s mob. We’ve only got an hour, I’m picking Rodan up after one of his interminable meetings.”</p><p>Introductions all round, happy exclamations and congratulations about Yvgeny’s plans, and more tea and coffee. Plus fruit slice, pumpkin scones, crackers with slivers of smoked salmon, and baklava.</p><p>Maxim didn’t hide that he was checking his chrono. Any other day, but why today? Why did they all have to pick today to be sociable?”</p><p>Panagiotis was at his elbow, “A guest, my lord. Asking for you.” </p><p>“I’ll come now.”  He jumped up. He could take her somewhere else – to one of the parlours upstairs maybe.</p><p>“Thank you for making time for me, Count. I just dropped by to give you those extra documents.”  Lord Mark Vorkosigan smiled, “Professora, nice to see you again.”</p><p>More introductions. Gorlov brought new rounds of coffee, tea, plum cake, saganaki cheese, miniature keftethes, sausage rolls, custard tarts and chocolate fingers.</p><p>Panagiotis added another table to the group; cups, plates and crockery were distributed, another three-tier cake stand was produced. Lord Mark started making heroic efforts to catch up to the rest of the diners.</p><p>This was hopeless. Maxim stood up, “Excuse me for a moment, everyone.”  He’d go and send her a quick message, postponing her visit until tomorrow.</p><p>Barlow joined the fray, “Count, your guest is here.”</p><p>She was right in front of him. </p><p>Anastasia stepped out onto the terrace, and for Maxim she was the only person there. He smiled.</p><p>She was here. </p><p>Maxim moved towards her slowly, as if he were afraid she’d disappear, “Anastasia. Welcome back to Vortaxis House. You are always welcome here.”</p>
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<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Time Flies When You're Having a Ball</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one's a bit long, sorry.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim stretched out in his huge, Countly bath, surrounded by bubbles. This was something you didn’t get in space craft. If he had to give up his career, he’d make the most of the perks that came with his new job. </p><p>Bubbles. Nobody but Kravik knew that the Count liked a few bubbles now and then. </p><p>That first afternoon tea had gone well. After her surprise at the crowd busily scoffing the amazing spread, Anastasia accepted a cup of tea and chose a few small delicacies. </p><p>Conversation flowed around the table. It wasn’t at all the way Maxim had planned it, but… it was nice. Comfortable. Warm. That chilly old house had come back to life. He tried to think of something clever, and funny, to say to her, but he was mostly tongue-tied. Just having her near was enough. But all his guests were talking, laughing, and being convivial. Maxim worked on keeping the silly smile off his face.</p><p>The armsmen hovered, on strict orders from Ma Kennerli to make sure the guests enjoyed all of her tasty treats. After years spent making porridge, or stewing old mutton, for Count Ludo, she finally had people who appreciated her talents. She was one of the best in her class at the New Corinth Culinary Institute, not that Count Ludo had cared. He’d eat the same meal every night if he could, hardly ever entertained anyone, and when he went to the District he didn’t take her, he hired daily staff down there, just for the days his guests were there. And all they wanted was more to drink, anyway. Now she was spreading her wings, every tiny treat was a song of joy for her. </p><p>Finally Maxim extracted Anastasia from the scrum, and gave her the full tour. She was delighted with the changes, the new life in the House, and especially the gardens and the play area for the children. “Look, the fairy grotto! Oh, and you kept our trees!” She pointed to four fruit trees, “Our father planted them, one for each of us when we were born. They’re gengineered to cope with the climate here, and to fruit for as long as possible. Cherry, Apricot, Apple, and Plum. I was Plum.”</p><p>“We kept the trees. The children can have fun picking fruit for themselves. When they’re a bit taller.”  He watched Rodon and Natalie’s three children playing some kind of chasings game with Verity’s boys. Ariadne toddled around on the outskirts. <br/>“I love this climbing frame – it goes on forever!  Look, it has slides, and this bit’s a pirate ship, and oh, you can walk along that chain to the next… it’s just perfect.”</p><p>She loved the courtyard with the new clean fountain, “We used to tell stories about the mermaid.” She was delighted with the garden terraces, and the pool, “It was so nice to swim at night, watching the lights on Vorhartung Castle. I used to sneak down at night and swim naked.” </p><p>They swung by the kitchens, “Ma Kennerli!”</p><p>“Mam’selle Anastasia!”  </p><p>There was hugging, a few cookly tears, and ‘Do you still like plum cakes? I’ll make one just for you, dearie’, ‘Do you remember when I tried to cook eggs and nearly set the kitchen on fire?’ and some more reminiscences of the old days.</p><p>“I’ve seen Barlow. Are Gorlov and Letokis still around? All the rest of the staff came after I left here.”  </p><p>She had a happy reunion with the former armsmen. Apparently she’d climbed trees a lot, and needed rescuing, or smuggling up to her room to tidy up before she was caught. He could tell that she’d been a favourite with them all. Maxim just smiled and listened. </p><p>They ended up back at the High Tea, just as it was winding down.</p><p>He didn’t push, didn’t try for more. Didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and scare her away. A last cup of tea, one more piece of baklava, and then he escorted her back to the groundcar. </p><p>“This was the happiest afternoon I’ve had since we routed the Kshatryan pirates. I don’t suppose you’d be free for lunch tomorrow?”</p><p>Lunch  in a nice, not too showily-expensive restaurant near the Great Square. They compared childhoods, discussed traditions from the District, and the university reaction to the discoveries in the library. Maxim was finding it easier to smile and talk now. This was a long-term project, if he was very careful then one day she’d be ready for romance. “I’m infested with bibliophiles, historians and assorted university denizens. I have to have a climate-controlled room, display cases, and who knows what else. On the bright side, they seem to have adopted Yvgeny. I might be able to get him rehomed.”</p><p>A few days after that was the next Council of Counts meeting. Maxim wore what his sister called his ‘party frock’, his formal House uniform. He was getting used to it. He tried not to sway too much. </p><p>The vote passed, of course. Rene Vorbretten made a graceful speech withdrawing his claims in favour of Count Vortaxis. Boriz Vormoncrief was more grudging and less polished, but he did the same. The Counts voted in a wave of relief to get the wretched thing over and done, and suddenly Maxim had a training base. </p><p>There was a reception at the Residence that evening. The Vortaxis contingent was impressive, attractive, and quite comfortable, greeting old and new friends, socialising, seeing and being seen. Maxim danced with Anastasia twice. Laughing, flirting, spinning through the couples on the floor. He did his duty dances with Countesses, politicians and a few Nexus diplomats. There was a small nod of approval from the Emperor, a smile from Lord Vorkosigan, and a dance from the Empress. </p><p>He was learning from the (bad) example of certain others: he managed to whisk Anastasia on to the balcony outside the ballroom, and then for a walk in the gardens, ‘To cool down a little’. He wasn’t going to pounce, grab, or disgust her. He had already complimented her on her Komarran-styled outfit, shimmering in reds and oranges in the darkness, like a banked fire. He was careful not to push, or make her feel vulnerable. Slow and careful, that was the thing, even if every nerve was screaming to hold her, to blurt out just how much he wanted her – not just wanted, but needed. But no, he kept control, and they walked and chatted. </p><p>Maxim paddled a bit to revive the bubbles, and tapped for more hot water. Ahhh luxury. </p><p>She never talked about Dimitry, or Ludo. There were a few passing references, but she’d move on from them quickly. They’d compared notes about their childhoods, and she told him a little about her early life, her parents (who sounded surprisingly sane and loving, especially considering their proximity to Ludo). Her grandmother, (again, loving and sane despite her link to Ludo.) Her older brothers. And then the Vorsmythes, and university, and the Fine Arts Academy. And … working for Laisa.</p><p>“It’s not your fault, you know. Not your shame or stain, or dishonour. Nobody blames you, not in the family, and not among the Counts, or the Vor, or the rest of Barrayar. I have contacts all over the place, and there’s nothing negative out there. And my family – we don’t see you as an embarrassing relative, or anything. We have Yvgeny for that. Mother thinks you’re heroic. Verity is firmly on your side. Yvgeny has noticed you around the house.” He kissed her hand, “Over and done.”</p><p>She couldn’t speak for a while. Maxim chattered on about the flowers, the dancing, and the latest scandal – which, amazingly, didn’t involve his family. </p><p>He steered her back to the ballroom and they danced again. He kept the conversation light after that, he didn’t want to distress her. Light and careful, go slow, give her time. He didn’t want to make a mess of this, it was too important. So he took her to lunch, to coffee, to whatever else seemed safe. </p><p>Olga’s exhibition went very well. Maxim escorted Anastasia, she wasn’t so worried about being seen with him now. The critics loved the artwork – and Maxim thought that it was some of the best that she’d done. It certainly sold well. Of course, it didn’t hurt that several Counts, Auditors, university professors, and assorted High Vor were there for the launch. </p><p>Those moments with Anastasia were bright, they were glowing; everything in between seemed dull and shadowy. </p><p>But the House was gearing up for what they were referring to as Maxim’s Big Bash. </p><p>“Why is my house full of workmen?”</p><p>“It’s not full, don’t fuss.” Verity was brisk, “It’s just a couple of teams to freshen up a few rooms. Some of them need fresh paint, new wallpaper.  Just some brightening up. New furniture covers, fresh window treatments.”</p><p>“Why are my windows being treated? Are they sick?”</p><p>He retreated to his study, it was out of bounds to workmen.</p><p>“Verity, why are the lift tubes full? I don’t mind using the stairs, but there’s a constant stream of armsmen up the lift tubes with – what is that?”</p><p>“Tables, chairs, cloths, china and cutlery for the refreshment room. Tables, chairs and cloths for the cardrooms. Vases. Candelabra.  They’re all from the store-rooms downstairs.”</p><p>He didn’t want to know more.</p><p>The library was full of students. The house was full of workmen and ant-lines of armsmen carrying whatever Verity had found in the cellars. The courtyard was full of delivery vans, unloading chillboxes and crates of food and drink into the side door that led to the kitchens. Maxim held vid-meetings from his study, made appointments, made a start on some of his other plans, played with the children, and generally kept out of the way. For some reason the wretched kitten seemed to prefer his study to the library. </p><p>Verity was torn in five directions at once, frantic to get it all done in time, being besieged by questions – and loving every minute. </p><p>On the morning of The Day he did a walk-through with Verity.</p><p>“You’ve been completely useless during all the preparations, for which I thank you. All you have to do now is look at everything and say ‘Ahhhh!  Verity, you’re amazing!’ There’s the dinner first, of course – we’ve set a long table up on the top terrace, we’ll dine among the flowers. Fingers crossed that the weather stays fine. Then we shoot all the dinner guests up to the ballroom. Follow me for the rest of the tour.” She set off, Maxim wondering if she was channelling a general he’d served under. If he started saluting her, he’d get therapy.</p><p>“Luckily we can fit quite a few vehicles in the courtyard. We’ll send some more down to the garages under the wings. We also have refreshment and comfort stations for the armsmen and drivers down there.”</p><p>“So long as they’re not swimming in the fountain, I’m happy.”</p><p>“Now, we start in the Great Hall. You and Mother will be greeting the guests down here.”</p><p>They reached the Great Hall, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”</p><p>Verity smiled, “I was wondering how to get all of those guests up to the ballroom – three flights of stairs might be a bit much for some of the more senior ones. But Gorlov knew about this!”</p><p>Two huge panels, one each side of the entrance to the Great Hall, were folded back. </p><p>“What – what are they?”</p><p>“I’ve never seen anything like it. We do have normal lift tubes in this House, as you know, but these are something special. They only go to the ballroom. Each one will take four people at a time side by side, five if they’re thin and friendly. We’ll set both to Up at the beginning of the night, then one Up and one Down later. Then both to Down when we’re getting rid of them all.”</p><p>The tubes were wider than any lift tube he’d ever seen, but still only one person deep, fitting neatly into the wide outer wall. “This will certainly speed things up, I was worried about how we’d get them all in and out. I thought that lift tubes had to be round, I’ve never seen them like this.”</p><p>“There’s restrooms off the Great Hall, for anyone who can’t hold it until they get upstairs. And the sitting room on the right has racks in it, ready for coats. I don’t think there’ll be many, it’s nice and warm, and they go from vehicle to the House. But ImpSec is taking charge of that, they’ll watch out for exploding opera cloaks or something. A nice Major came and went through everything with me.”</p><p>“They’ll be going mad about security.”</p><p>“They are, it’s hilarious watching them search a box of fruit tarts. I thought Ma Kennerli was going to have conniptions, poor thing. But we’ve finally got everything ready, and we have the outside shields around the building. They’re set up so that we can still let people in the main entrance.”</p><p>She headed him up the stairs, listing more of the preparations as they climbed, “Some of them will still take the stairs. The bedroom wings can be sealed off. We’ll lock the rooms on the lower floors that we don’t want people to use. And there’s panels that slide out from the walls, we can actually block off the corridors we don’t want people to access.”</p><p>The largest dining room was on the floor below the ballroom. </p><p>“The table splits right down the middle – Gorlov knew. We pushed the two halves along the wall, green cloths along them with silver lace toppers. All of the food will go along here.”  She turned to gesture to the rest of the room, “Small tables, four chairs to each one. This is now the refreshment room.  Bar over there – there’s ouzo, retsina and whisky as well as all the wines; tea and coffee station down there – five different kinds of tea and three kinds of coffee. Several servers at each. Teams of armsmen on duty, and there’s dumbwaiters from the kitchens to a side room. Large ones. To get all the food up at the right time.”</p><p>The room was still, and ready. Just waiting for all the laughter and noise. </p><p>“Now, the other rooms on this floor. There’s a couple of restrooms, we’ve set up card and dice tables in the largest drawing room, and some in the second-largest for private games, for the heavy hitters. And there’s a few small parlours for… quiet chats.”</p><p>“Snogging.”</p><p>“If you’re going to do that, lock the door first.”</p><p>And then up to the ballroom. </p><p>“Oh. Ohhh wow. Verity, you’re a genius.”</p><p>“Mother helped.”</p><p>The ballroom had wallpaper of Hunter Green patterned with silver. Thistles and myrtle floated through the pattern. Long windows ran down each side of the massive room, draped with silver lace. Vases of white flowers with dark green foliage, on low pillars, stood between the windows. </p><p>“The flowers came from the District, this morning.”</p><p>The lift tubes were open and ready on the courtyard side. On the other side, the windows were actually French doors, opening onto a long balcony that ran along the side of the building. </p><p>“For fresh air. People can come out here for a break.”</p><p>“And a snog.”</p><p>“Maxim, that’s not all they do at these things, you know.”</p><p>“When you were younger…”</p><p>“I was popular.”</p><p>Delicate silvery railings ran around the balcony. </p><p>“We also have some shields around the balcony. Nobody is going off there, accidently or on purpose.”</p><p>“Thank goodness. Didn’t you throw one of your boyfriends off a balcony once?”</p><p>“I didn’t throw him, it was just a little push. Now stop snarking and check out the room.”</p><p>At the far end was a raised area, with several chairs, “We’ve had acceptances from the Emperor and Empress, I didn’t expect that. But we have a place for them to sit and watch events. They can chat with people, or dance, if they want to, or retire up there for a break. It’s an old tradition.”</p><p>“And we’re nothing if not traditional.”</p><p>“Stop swishing your kilt.” At the other end of the ballroom was a musician’s gallery. “I called a few of my old contacts. I have two lovely bands coming to play for the dancing, they’ll alternate. There’s speakers all around the ballroom, of course. There’ll be a string quartet in the refreshment room and a keyboarder in the cardroom. And a couple of singers who’ll step in when those musicians need a break. We have a few rooms off each end of the ballroom: there’s powder rooms at each end, a few small sitting rooms, NOT for snogging, necessarily,  but for ladies to fix their clothing if needed, and for other personal upkeep. Plus we have some of the drinks in big chillboxes in a room back here, waiters can come in to get fresh trays of drinks.”</p><p>“The armsmen will be busy. Did you hire extra waiters?”</p><p>“Well, we were lucky there. Due to recent security scares, and so many important guests, we’ll have a squad of ImpSec waiters.”</p><p>“Ok, I think that’s a good wow. I’m nearly wow’d out.”</p><p>“Not yet.”  She pointed upwards.</p><p>He looked up. There were a dozen chandeliers, sparkling like shards of the rainbow. “They look like someone started with a giant snowflake, added scrolls and streaks of glass, and then sprinkled it with glitter.”</p><p>“Probably close. Mother recognised them as works of art by some old sculptor. Wait till you see them lit up, they’re stunning. And there’s one more thing.”</p><p>“More? I’m all awed out now.”</p><p>“Up. Look right up.”</p><p>“The ceiling. It’s painted to look like the sky – that’s clever.”</p><p>“No. That IS the sky. There’s no attic level over the ballroom, it goes right up to the roof. And the roof in this part of the building is made of something with a long name, that translates in real person talk to stuff that can be set to act like a normal roof, or it can go through cloudy to full-on transparent.  It’s fine weather, so tonight we’ll dance under the stars.”</p><p>“That’s stunning!  But what about flying vidcams from the media? They’re bound to be nosing around.”</p><p>“It’s one-way. From the outside you don’t see much but a bit of a glow. And all of the windows are treated as well – that’s why they shine the way they do, apparently.”</p><p>“All of this – I can’t believe it. When was it all done? What is this costing – did you run mad?”</p><p>“A lot of the extras like the tables and so on, you already had. Those cellars are glorious fun, you should get past the wine cellar some time. Most of the stuff like the lift tubes and the roof is old, practically ancient. Old tech, anyway. The Old Count liked to keep up to date in his time, and I think he had some tame inventors working for him at one point, so he’d modernise as prototypes became available. And it’s simply been maintained well ever since on some automatic contract. I had to get some people in to check motors and power supplies and things, replace a few bits, do safety checks, but it’s all surprisingly workable. And ImpSec paid for most of the safety checks, too. They’re very helpful. All this stuff was just sitting there waiting to be used. There’s special extra lights around the entrance archway, the courtyard, and the fountain, too. Oh, and we have very artistic clusters of lights in the gardens, so when people look down from the balcony it’ll look magical. Thank you, Great-Grandfather.  Oncle Abelard wants to talk to you about some of it later. I think he wants blueprints. He was muttering about a few of your ‘innovations’.”</p><p>Maxim looked around at it all, “I never, ever, in all my days imagined this.  And Ludo had this for decades, he did nothing with it? How could he waste it all? We need parties, balls, receptions, festivals, anything. Everything. We’re going to shake the dust out of this old place!”</p><p>And now he floated in his bubbles. </p><p>Tonight he’d see Anastasia again. They’d dance. He was being slow and careful, never crossing a line, just being charming and friendly. Lying in wait. Hunting. One pounce and he could lose her forever. And that was unthinkable.</p><p>Slowly and carefully Count Vortaxis soaked in his bubbles, ready to show Vorbarr Sultana just what he could do. This would be the ball of the century!</p><p>Nothing could go wrong.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Sliding Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone has plans. Sometimes they connect, sometimes they collide.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia floated in her bath, bubbles glistening around her. This was often the best moment of the day. </p><p>And her days were busy. Time seemed to just fly by. She’d done some more of those special jobs for Laisa – freeing an innocent person, tracking down a gang who’d defrauded an elderly woman and figuring out how a widow’s savings had just vanished – turned out they were in the bank account of one of her grandsons. He said he was looking after the money for her. Just the threat of FastPenta and he had a whole different story, and granny got her money back. There were disappointments, too – some of the supplicants weren’t as innocent as they claimed. Some people hadn’t been defrauded, they’d simply made bad decisions and that money wasn’t coming back. The two lawyers that Laisa had added to the group were a huge help. </p><p>She’d tried so hard to dodge the media, but finally Laisa had organised a short, brutally-well-controlled interview with a trusted journalist. Laisa fielded most of the questions, then Anastasia and the two lawyers were introduced by Laisa and each gave a brief summary of their work. </p><p>“Anastasia Vortaxis – you were in the news recently for a different reason.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You saved the Imperial children from a plot to kidnap them.”</p><p>“Yes.”  Sparkling wit on show here.</p><p>“And now you work for the Empress.”</p><p>Deep breath, and say something more than…”Yes.”  Oh dammit, “Yes, she’s been very kind and supportive. I find the work truly rewarding, it’s wonderful to be a very small part of such a successful process. No matter how good the system, there will always be some people who slip through the cracks. The Empress is bringing hope, and justice, to women who need help.”  There. I’ve said words.</p><p>Laisa made a small gesture, and an armsman loomed at the journalist. “Thank you my lady, and thanks to your assistants. I’m so glad that I had this opportunity to spread the news about your work.”</p><p>Done and out.  </p><p>Afterwards they all had tea and crumpets, a Barrayaran tradition that Laisa had adopted. “That went well. You all did a great job.”  </p><p>Murmurs of ‘thank you my lady’. </p><p>“And, hopefully, that’ll get them off our backs for a while. And it’ll distract them from nagging Gregor for an interview – they’re always after him for something.”</p><p>“Can’t he send someone else?”</p><p>“Well, he did send Lord Vorkosigan. Once.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>Apart from the horrors of vid’d journalism, the days had gone well. </p><p>Visiting the House with Maxim.</p><p>Coffee with Maxim.</p><p>Lunch with Maxim.</p><p>The art exhibition with Maxim.</p><p>More coffee with Maxim.</p><p>Dancing with Maxim at a few of the Residence social events. </p><p>Dinners with Maxim. </p><p>Yes, lots of talking, dancing dining. Laughing, too, he could make her laugh. </p><p>Sometimes he held her hand, and she could feel sparks. She could feel a shiver running over her skin. And a strange yearning. Well, maybe not so strange. </p><p>He told her she was beautiful. Not in a big, fussy way – just in passing, as if it was so obvious it hardly needed mentioning. He said she was brave, and smart. He said she was honourable – and not in the Old Vor way, which just meant a young woman was a virgin. You could lie, cheat, steal, hurt those around you, and be a truly horrible woman, but as long as you kept your credentials you were a fine, honourable Vor maiden. No, he understood. He meant it the way she did. </p><p>But he didn’t seem to understand that she wanted more. </p><p>Once, he’d kissed her hand, and it was so romantic.</p><p>But… he hadn’t kissed anything else. </p><p>And dammit she needed kissing. All over. </p><p>Maybe he was losing interest? Maybe he’d decided that, once he got to know her, she wasn’t his type? </p><p>What was he waiting for? She’d had to practically wrestle to get away from some grabby Vor lords, and that was on the dance floor, for heaven’s sake, where everyone could see! But Maxim...he was.. How could someone wear a kilt like that, and look so incredibly masculine, and set every hormone in the room screaming, and not … show an interest?  I mean, he was gentlemanly, which was great. But after a certain number of meetings, coffees, dinners, dances, and other dates – well, a girl needs a sign that she’s making an impact. </p><p>Tonight was the ball at Vortaxis House. She was going in the Imperial party, they’d arrive after most of the guests were there.   </p><p>Gregor and Laisa were dining in their rooms, after seeing the children to bed. Anastasia had a light meal in the Ladies’ parlour. The lawyers had all gone home, but the Librarian was still there. “I’m planning to watch, tonight. Someone is going into the library and taking books. They almost put them back in the right places, but I can tell. I tried cameras, but they wouldn’t work properly – one of the armsmen said there was interference from the security systems. So I’m going to sit behind some shelves, and wait. I’ll catch him, don’t you worry!”</p><p>Anastasia wished her the best. She reminded herself to warn the armsmen again.</p><p>Then she’d meet up with Gregor and Laisa, and they’d head off to the ball. She hoped that she wasn’t meant to be Cinderella, she had no intention of turning into a pumpkin at midnight.  </p><p>But, dammit, if Maxim didn’t do something – anything – more than kissing her hand, then he could kiss her peachy rear end goodbye. </p><p>Mind you, if he did that…</p><p>Dammit, it’s the bubbles. They always make me think like this. I feel so luxurious and, and – and libidinous. </p><p>She wallowed out of the bath and wrapped herself in one of the gorgeously fluffy Residence towels. Someone in Housekeeping knew their towels, that’s for sure. </p><p>She’d laid her clothes out ready. It was a new dress, one that she’d been saving for a special occasion – although they were all special at the Residence. But it was new, anyway. Barrayaran-style, but with a Nexus influence. It clung in the right places – to give him the idea to do the same, hopefully. It flowed gracefully from her hips to her ankles, skirts swirling softly. It had the sheen of mother-of-pearl, one of those shot fabrics that she loved, glowing in shades of electric blue through turquoise to purple. Silver thread glistened. She was wearing one of the few sets of jewellery she’d inherited from her mother – she always suspected that the servants had spirited it away from Ludo, when he’d told them to pack up everything the shocked, grieving twelve-year-old owned, and send her to her mother’s family. </p><p>Somehow, bundled up in some of her clothes, were a few pieces of jewellery. On the rare occasions when her mother dressed up for something special, the jewellery she wore was usually from the Vortaxis collection. But a few cherished items were gifts from her husband. And those, somehow, ended up in Anastasia’s luggage. </p><p>So tonight she’d wear one of her mother’s favourite sets; a delicate necklace of turquoise and sapphire with matching ear-rings and bracelet. </p><p>Tonight she’d have all flags flying. Hopefully he could read the signals.</p><p>One of the Residence maids slipped into the room; Sophie often helped Anastasia get ready when there was a special event. She had dreams of being a proper lady’s maid one day. She was definitely a genius with hair. </p><p>“Oh Sophie, thank you!  I want to look specially… special, tonight.”</p><p>Sophie giggled as she brushed and braided, “For a special person, miss?”</p><p>“Tonight I’ll find out if he IS a special person. Or just a nice way to spend some time.”</p><p>“Well make sure you give him a big enough hint. My ma says that men aren’t like us. They need very clear signals.”</p><p>“The neckline on this dress is signalling something. He’d better get the message.”</p><p>And if he didn’t get the message tonight… it was over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. The Big Night Begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one's probably a bit of a tease....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The House looked superb. </p><p>Maxim was resplendent in his formal House uniform. </p><p>Verity was glowing with satisfaction at getting everything done, so perfectly, and glorious in a dark red gown with gold embroidery. </p><p>Olga was so proud of her amazing children. Her new gown was a delicate mauve, with a silvery gleam. </p><p>Yvgeny was present. </p><p>The almost-armsmen weren’t in livery, of course, but their dark green shirts and black trousers looked crisp and fine. The shirts were Russian-style, with full sleeves and short upstanding collars that opened to the side. They’d all completed the Residence course, that included far more than just how to serve the fish correctly. They knew a lot more about dealing with awkward moments with silent efficiency; identifying and removing dangerous or difficult persons from their Count’s presence or home, and probably general looming lessons, too. They seemed to be looking forward to trying out their new serving skills at the dinner.  The ImpSec waiters were in white shirts, but they looked professional. They were probably some of the best-trained waiters in Vorbarr Sultana, too. </p><p>The female staff were mostly in the kitchen or working behind the scenes ferrying food around. Verity had issued dark green dresses to all of them; plain and long-sleeved, with flared skirts to mid-calf. A very traditional style that pleased them all. They had crisp white aprons – the housemaids had lace on theirs, the kitchen staff didn’t. Ma Kennerli had green stripes top and bottom on hers. The housekeeper didn’t wear an apron at all, and had a small plain bolero in the same dark green as her dress. These differences meant nothing to Maxim, but he had a vague feeling that they were vitally important signs of status to the women. House rules about the staff were simple: Do not EVER offend the cook, and don’t upset the female staff, they’ll make you pay in devious and terrifying ways. </p><p>There were ImpSec personnel guarding the main courtyard entrance, lurking around the fountain, and probably lost in the back gardens too. They’d searched the house after Ludo and Dimitry died so they knew it fairly well. They’d done another full search, of course, and overseen the sealing-off of areas that weren’t to be accessed during the ball. Maxim let them get on with it, they knew their job. Another useful rule was Do Not Bother ImpSec. Ever.</p><p>Maxim waited at the door for the dinner guests. Soon groundcars were sweeping around the courtyard, depositing their important cargo. The guests milled around the Great Hall, exclaiming at the massive stained-glass windows – light from the garden gleaming through just enough to hint at their full glory. </p><p>The super-sized lift tubes received some attention, too. And simply the House itself; for so long it had been dismal and rarely visited. </p><p>Finally Barlow gave a signal to Verity, who herded them all out to the long table in the gardens. Each wide terrace was cleverly illuminated, stepping down by degrees to the low stone wall on the cliff edge. Special features swam in the lights, turning the gardens into an enchanted fairyland. Down the river Vorhartung Castle curled up like a sleeping dragon. </p><p>They’d brought in vanloads of food for the ball, all kinds of delicacies from Vortaxis District – much of it prepared by the Culinary School. But the dinner was all Ma Kennerli’s work. </p><p>Maxim was learning about Vortaxis District food. It was a strange, but surprisingly successful, mixture of Greek and Scotchis food. Maxim had baulked at haggis, but the cook’s other suggestions were fine, and certainly seemed to please the guests. </p><p>He sat at the head of the table, of course. His mother sat at the other end, as senior woman in the family. One day his wife would sit there. Maybe… maybe soon… just don’t rush things. </p><p>Sorting out the seating had been a huge job – Verity and Olga had to sort out the order of precedence for so many high-ranking guests. And Yvgeny, of course, despite Maxim’s determined attempt to lock him in the library as they sealed off parts of the House. </p><p>Maxim had been working closely with his business partners, so they were all there, with their ladies: Lord Mark Vorkosigan and Kareen Koudelka – everyone loved her straight away; Count and Countess Vorsmythe; Lord Vann Vorgustafson and his Lady; Tabor and Madame Kalamakis and Leonidas and Madame Brazhensky. </p><p>He’d also invited Admiral Desplains and Madame Desplains; Maxim had worked with the Admiral during some of the more hair-raising moments of his career, and they had a sincere mutual admiration. He’d invited Lord Auditor Vorkosigan and his Lady, as well – a far more recent working acquaintance, but Maxim found the man very impressive. He could learn a lot, politically, from Vorkosigan’s tactics. </p><p>They’d invited Count and Countess Vorbretten:  ‘Always invite the neighbours when you have a big party’ was good advice from Olga. </p><p>The Professora had become a firm favourite with the family. Professora and Lord Auditor Vorthys were there – it had taken some persuasion to extract the Lord Auditor from the lift tubes in the Great Hall, he was fascinated by them and had almost started to disassemble the workings ‘just to see how it’s all put together’. </p><p>Olga had invited the owner of the studio that mounted her exhibition. She was married to another leading artist, also an old friend of Olga’s. She was enjoying the chance to reconnect with the artistic circle in the city. Verity had invited the conductor of the Vorbarr Symphony Orchestra, and his wife. And the leading actress and actor in Vorbarr Sultana, currently married to each other. </p><p>One of the musicians Verity had worked with – a violinist – played throughout the meal, a gentle background to the conversations, and the distant murmur of the river. </p><p>It was an odd, mismatched, but convivial, group. Maxim decided to just relax and enjoy it. This was what he hoped for in the future: Vortaxis House bustling with guests, busy and productive. Alive.</p><p>“I think this dinner was a mistake,” Lord Auditor Vorthys pushed his chair back from the table, “Your cook is so good that I’m not sure I can do justice to the dancing after this.”</p><p>Several voices agreed, others laughed and protested. </p><p>Finally the guests were herded back to the Great Hall, and Lord Vorthys was able to try the jumbo lift tubes, “I’ve seen large-sized round ones, but never oval like this…” His wife pushed him in, “Later, Georg. Right now it’s time for dancing.”</p><p>Verity escorted the last of the dinner guests up to the ballroom. </p><p>And in the courtyard, the first groundcar whispered to a halt. </p><p>The Vortaxis House Ball was starting.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. May I Have This Dance?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The last one was a bit short. This is longer, to make up for it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim and Olga were still standing by the door. He’d greeted so many people he’d totally forgotten who any of them were. The rush was slowing, most of the guests had arrived on time, eager to see the mysterious Vortaxis House. </p><p>Two outriders on float bikes, wearing black and silver livery, sped into the courtyard. There was a general impression of ImpSec coming up on their toes. </p><p>A large groundcar, black with a silver crest on the door – the Emperor’s arms – whispered to a stop beside the steps up to the front door. </p><p>The Emperor and Empress stepped out and looked around.  Gregor was in one of his most formal House uniforms, Laisa was in one of her Komarran-styled outfits, in shades of gold and amber, with little red glimmers as she moved. </p><p>And then – she was here. </p><p>Her gown shimmered in blues and turquoise, she looked like the mermaid in the fountain, gleaming in its coloured lights. </p><p>Anastasia.</p><p>Maxim bowed to the Imperial couple, “Welcome to Vortaxis House, sire, my lady.”</p><p>“I’m told that you’ve made some great changes here.”</p><p>They liked the jumbo-sized lift shafts, Gregor stared at them thoughtfully. Anastasia joined Maxim and Olga in one of the lift tubes, the Imperial couple and two of their armsmen rode up in the other. </p><p>The ballroom fell silent as they entered, then all the assembled guests bowed or curtseyed, like a wave spreading through the giant room. </p><p>There were exclamations at the chandeliers, the sky through the ceiling and the sheer size of the ballroom. </p><p>For his first dance Maxim led his mother onto the floor, to be joined by the other Counts and Countesses, then the hoi polloi streamed onto the floor. </p><p>For the second dance, Maxim led out the Empress. Gregor danced with Olga, they seemed to be chatting happily about art.</p><p>“When will it be her turn?”</p><p>“I- I’m sorry, my lady – whose turn?”</p><p>“Anastasia, of course. When will you have worked far enough down the list of precedence to dance with her?”</p><p>Maxim stared at her for a moment, “I’m hoping to …er… minimise my duty dances.”</p><p>“Count Vortaxis, there is a time to forget duty. Are you going to spend the whole night watching her dance with other men?”</p><p>He growled. </p><p>“Well then, stop pratting about and do something. The poor girl is in such a total tizz she can hardly think straight.”</p><p>“There are… certain considerations…”</p><p>“It must be a family resemblance. You’re as bad as she is. Just how badly did old Ludo mess you all up? Look, if you don’t really care about her, let her go. If you do care, do something about it. And if you’re not sure… get sure.” They slowly spun around the floor, “Oh my goodness, I’m channelling Cordelia again!”</p><p>After the dance ended, and the Imperials were deposited in their chairs of state on their little stage, the band played a particular chord, and then the bandmaster keyed in the microphone, “Ladies and Gentlemen, take your places for Strip the Willow!” </p><p>There was general laughter. Fortunately Verity had sent a dance list out with the invitations, with instructions, and the ones who’d read it started to form the sets. Maxim looked around, then crossed the ballroom to stand in front of Anastasia, “Do you know this one? Will you do it with me?”</p><p>She glanced around, the Empress was nodding and smiling. “Yes, Count, I’d love to!”</p><p>The dance was a wild romp, the couples spinning down the set. There was no chance to talk, but everyone was laughing by the time the dance ended. </p><p>After the dance Maxim griped her hand, “Anastasia, I -”</p><p>“Count Vortaxis!  There you are!  This is a marvellous night!  I’ve been wanting to ask you - ”</p><p>He was swept away in a crowd of congratulations. Anastasia danced with a few young Vor lords, an Escobaran diplomat, Lord Beneres – he was bemused by it all, it wasn’t up to Cetagandan standards, but he was actually having fun – and Count Vorbretten. </p><p>Then Maxim fought his way back to her side, “My lady, dance with me!  Save me!”  The fled onto the dance floor again. It was a mirror dance, simple, but fun for everyone. </p><p>“Oh Maxim, I think you saved me. Nestor was homing in.”</p><p>“Nestor? Is this someone I have to kill?”</p><p>“Squash him like a bug, maybe. Lord Nestor Vorfolse, heir to the Heir, Count Vorfolse’s grandson. He claims that we knew each other as children. I don’t remember him, but his grandfather was a crony of Ludo’s, so maybe one of my brothers threw Nestor in the fountain one time. I hope so.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“He’s… slimy. He only arrived in the Capital a few days ago, he said his grandfather had sent for him. Because of me, because he’d like to rekindle our old friendship, or something. I’m not kindling anything with him!”</p><p>“Has he touched you? Hurt you?”  Maxim was ready to toss the scum off the balcony. Damn those screens, the jerk would just bounce back.</p><p>“No, he just watches, and he seems to think I should be grateful for his attention. But who cares, he’ll probably go back to his District soon. He – well I’m not sure what he does down there. Nothing, I think.”</p><p>“Vorfolse District is a neighbour of Vortaxis.”  </p><p>“Yes. Ick.”</p><p>“I’m not too popular with Vorfolse right now. He’s had a twenty-year sweetheart contract from old Ludo, buying the ore from our mines at disgracefully low prices. But the contract ends in a few weeks, and I’ve been getting a consortium together – we’re going to start up the old refineries and process the ore ourselves, and I’ve already lined up several customers.”</p><p>“That’s a good idea, you need to value add within the District  - it makes more jobs, and you get a far better price for the product.”</p><p>Maxim groaned inwardly – this was not the sweet small talk he’d planned. </p><p>They circled a few more times in silence, until the music stopped. “May I escort you to the refreshment room?”</p><p>“I’m sure there are more important ladies who deserve your attention.”</p><p>“Higher ranking perhaps. More deserving – never.”</p><p>The refreshment room was busy, but people weren’t lingering at the tables so everyone was able to have their supper and then head back to the dancing. </p><p>Anastasia smiled, “Oh!  Karythopita!  I haven’t had that for so long – and Tablet, I’ve missed that too, it was always a special treat.”</p><p>Maxim smiled proudly, “All from the District. Our special delicacies.”</p><p>Rodan led Natalie up to their table, quickly taking the spare chairs, “Maxim, this is an amazing place!  And the dancing – I haven’t danced like this in years!”</p><p>“We’re having most of the regular dances, but adding a few from the District.”</p><p>“Yes, we did The Dashing White Sergeant with Verity. I haven’t moved so fast in ages! It’s completely decadent, of course, but I must say you have a wide slice of society here. Oh, Anastasia, hello. What do you think of all this?”</p><p>“Hello Rodan, Natalie. It’s a wonderful night, isn’t it. So good to see the House come back to life.”</p><p>Maxim watched her. She was smiling, dancing, even having fun. But she was - what? Polite? Controlled? He could sense that she was holding herself back. </p><p>He stood up, “Well, we’ve finished our supper, better give up the seats to someone else. And I have to get back to the ballroom – I’ve told Verity, strictly, we do NOT do Zorba’s dance until the end of the night. I’ll have to keep an eye on things.”</p><p>He took Anastasia’s hand and led her over to the stairs, and up to the ballroom. There were three concentric circles of dancers in the middle of the ballroom. Doing Zorba’s dance, with gusto. And in the centre – waving a white handkerchief around – was Yvgeny, and a rather pretty girl that Maxim didn’t recognise. </p><p>The circles must have gladdened the Emperor’s political heart; Vor Counts held hands with Betan diplomats, then a well-known actor sped past holding the hand of a General, then a popular author, a few business men and women,  an Auditor, several Countesses, a prominent banker,  the Cetagandan ambassador, and then it was all just a whirl. </p><p>Maxim headed for the Emperor and Empress, watching it all from their special stage in the far corner. The Empress was obviously trying not to laugh. The Emperor was harder to read; amused? Satisfied? Disgusted? Maxim led Anastasia closer, then an arm reached out of the line and scooped her up. Well, it was only Henri Vorvolk, so she was pretty safe. </p><p>“Sire, we certainly have a fine mix of guests going on.”</p><p>Gregor nodded, and now it was clear that laughter was winning, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”</p><p>Maxim sighed, “I’m not sure what message I’m sending right now. But at least everyone’s mixing together, and having fun.”</p><p>The dance ended in laughter and happy confusion. Yvgeny bounced up to Maxim, leading his dance partner, “Maxim!  This is wonderful!  Sire, My lady,” he gave a perfect bow, “I hope you’re having fun. Isn’t it a great night!”</p><p>Gregor nodded, Laisa gave a very un-Imperial giggle. </p><p>“Oh, and I want to introduce you – do you remember I told you I’d met an old school friend at that reception at the Residence? Well, this is his sister, Delphine. Sire, My Lady, may I present Delphine Allegre? She’s doing science at the University, just started her Masters.”</p><p>Delphine curtseyed, there were Imperial nods and suitably polite greetings, then Yvgeny exclaimed, “Refreshments!” and took his leave, still holding tightly to his partner.</p><p>“Allegre.”  Maxim stared after them, “Allegre. That’s not…”</p><p>“Head of ImpSec, yes.” Gregor nodded.</p><p>“Only Yvgeny….”</p><p>Other people soon took his place, and Maxim drifted away to do a circuit of the room. He found Anastasia chatting to a pack of hopeful young officers, and scattered them all with a glare.  </p><p>A mazurka was going on, formal and dignified. “Well, it’s too late to join a set. Would you care for some fresh air?”  He whisked her through the doors onto the balcony.</p><p>The view was amazing, the garden a fairyland of light and shadow. And above, the stars  were blazing. There were statues, and usefully leafy shrubs in large pots, along the balcony, dividing the spaces and giving the illusion of privacy. Maxim drew Anastasia into a shadowy corner.</p><p>“Ok. Tell me.”</p><p>“Tell… what?”</p><p>“You’ve been polite all evening.”</p><p>“And that’s a bad thing?”</p><p>“From my Little Miss Bossyboots it is, yes. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours? Have I done something wrong? Offended you? Hurt you?”</p><p>“You haven’t done anything.”</p><p>“Well then, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“You haven’t done anything.”</p><p>“You just… oh. Ohhhh. You… you want me to… do …. something?”</p><p>“Well, not ravish me in the middle of the dance floor, no, but … a small hint of ravishment wouldn’t be a terribly bad thing. I mean, you’re so… polite.”</p><p>He sighed, “We’re not meant to be polite, are we, Bossyboots.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that – High and Mighty.”</p><p>He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, but suddenly Anastasia was aware of him in a totally new way. This was a man, pure man, all man, right in front of her. And he wanted her, she knew it. She tried to breathe. </p><p>Maxim slowly ran a fingertip down the side of her face. And no touch had ever been so intense. Then he rested his hands on the wall each side of her and leaned forward, his face close to hers. “Touch? Like this?”  His lips brushed hers. “This?” He pressed closer, she was incredibly aware of a few thin layers of fabric between them. “Or this?”  </p><p>This wasn’t kissing. She’d kissed men before, in teasing flirtations. This wasn’t that. This electrified every nerve in her body, her skin felt alive, she trembled with the need to hold him. She reached out to pull him closer, wanting to feel him against her. </p><p>He ran a soft line of kisses down to her throat, “This?”</p><p>“Maxim, I – oh – I - ”</p><p>“Mmmm yes?”</p><p>There was nothing in the world but the two of them. No light, no sound, no heat or cold or movement. Only the two of them, clinging together, feeling the play of muscle under skin as they held each other close.</p><p>Finally, terribly, Maxim leaned away, breaking the contact between them, “So, was that a touch?”</p><p>“You are a conscienceless bastard. Why did you stop!”</p><p>“That’s my Bossyboots.  Now, before you start begging me for more -”</p><p>“Begging YOU!  You’ll be pleading with me to -”</p><p>“Before all that starts, there’s just one thing.”</p><p>“What? What thing?”</p><p>“Marry me.”</p><p>She gasped, then froze.  “Oh Maxim, that isn’t – we shouldn’t – what  - they’ll all say –”</p><p>“They’ll say that I’m doing very well for myself, and that the rest of the girls had a lucky escape. Look at the wild gyrations going on in my ballroom – who else could handle all that?”</p><p>“You don’t really know me.”</p><p>“It’ll be fun to find out. And you don’t really know me.”</p><p>“Yes I do. You’re High and Mighty, and pushy, and you take people for granted, and… and you’re kind and you play with Verity’s children. I’ve heard what the Vorbrettens say about you. The cat likes you. The Empress likes you, and not just for the kilt. The Emperor trusts you.”</p><p>“Then you can trust me too.”</p><p>“Maxim…”</p><p>“I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life being your husband. I want to wake up beside you each morning, because then each day will be wonderful. I want to see you smile at me. And glare, and frown, and that glorious giggle you do when you’re trying to be dignified and not laugh out loud. I want you, with your courage and honour and kindness. Did I forget to say that I love you? It only took one look.”</p><p>“Laisa said that sometimes, that’s all it takes.”</p><p>“So. Look at me. Do you see me?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Do you love me?”</p><p>“…yes.”</p><p>“Will you marry me?”</p><p>“You’re insane. Ohhh Maxim, this is crazy… but… yes!”</p><p>This time the kissing was more exuberant. </p><p>“Wait, don’t we have to ask permission?”</p><p>“I’m your Count. I’m head of your family. I give permission.”</p><p>“Well that’s ok then.”</p><p>The sound of giggling and footsteps getting closer finally made them pause. “Dammit. I suppose I should go back in there. And maybe… you work for Laisa, I should inform her.”</p><p>“Ask her permission?”</p><p>“So long as she says yes, then ok.”</p><p>They threaded their way through the laughing, chattering crowds back to the Imperial corner.</p><p>“Sire, My lady, I would like to inform you.. and ask your permission…she said yes!”</p><p>Laisa laughed. Gregor smiled. “Have you told your family?”</p><p>“Not yet. I’ll do it now. I’ll tell everyone! Then she can’t get away.” Maxim was feeling drunk with joy. This was the best moment in his life. </p><p>Anastasia laughed, for pure happiness. It was the most perfect sound he’d ever heard. He held tightly to her hand and reached for the buttonmike on his jacket. The last dance had finished, the next wasn’t starting yet – the perfect time.</p><p>“Attention everyone!”  His voice quietened the crowd. He waved so that they could all find him, “I would like to make an announcement. To my great joy, and surprise, Mademoiselle Anastasia Vortaxis has agreed to marry me!”</p><p>There was a moment of dead silence, and then the bubbling of sounds – exclamations, laughter and applause. </p><p>It was the best moment ever.</p><p>“NO!  She’s not marrying you!”</p><p>Maxim looked around, and saw a man step out of the crowd, “Anastasia isn’t marrying you!”</p><p>“She’s accepted, it’s been approved, this doesn’t involve you.”</p><p>“Yes it does!  She can’t marry you – because she’s my wife!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Proof Positive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So..... who guessed right?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia stared in horror at Nestor Vorfolse, “I am NOT! I hadn’t met you until a few days ago!  And I’d never marry you!”</p><p>Nestor strode forward, a little bantam of a man radiating outrage and dark satisfaction, “We are married. We’ve been married for years. I claim my wife, it’s my right.”</p><p>She could feel the rage building in Maxim. Behind her, Laisa and Gregor were ominously silent. </p><p>“I am NOT married to you!  I only met you a few days ago!  There’s no marriage contract, no official permission, nothing!”</p><p>Slowly Nestor pulled a handful of flimsies from an inner coat pocket, and waved them triumphantly, “I have here the marriage contract, and witness of marriage, signed by Counts Vorfolse and Vortaxis!”</p><p>Maxim stepped forward, “I haven’t signed that. I haven’t even seen it.”</p><p>Nestor sneered in contempt, “Not you. The real Count; Count Ludovic.  He signed these papers twenty years ago.”</p><p>“What? But I was four!”</p><p>“That’s right. Our grandfathers arranged the marriage. It used to be common practice between High Vor families. I was seven, you were four.”</p><p>“I don’t even remember that! My parents would never have agreed to it.”  Anastasia felt sick. This couldn’t be happening.</p><p>“Your parents were unimportant. It was an agreement between the two Counts. Ludovic had final say over you, he was the head of the family, he was Count. His word was law. My grandfather brought me to this place one day. Your grandfather had you ready in his study. Nobody else was involved – it wasn’t their business. The Counts did the groat circle and put us in it.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have said the words!”</p><p>“You didn’t have to. They spoke for us. They were the witnesses as well, the only ones needed. They signed these documents. It’s legal and binding.” He was gloating, this was his big moment. </p><p>Anastasia looked frantically at Laisa, “My lady – please, this can’t be right!”</p><p>Laisa turned to Gregor, “This isn’t right, surely. It can’t be legal. Children getting married?”</p><p>Nestor shook his head, “The Emperor can’t interfere in Vor family matters. He has to respect the rights of Counts over their own families.” He smiled triumphantly.</p><p>Gregor was looking very blank, which Anastasia realised was covering a growing rage. Laisa was almost in tears. </p><p>Maxim stepped closer to Anastasia, his hand closing on her wrist, “She isn’t your wife. Never.”</p><p>Gregor was grave, “It was legal for children to be promised in arranged marriages, in the old days. There was a form of marriage ceremony. But there were other legal requirements; a betrothal contract, dowry and so on.”</p><p>Nestor nodded happily, “I have all those documents here. Our grandfathers negotiated it all, they made a trade deal. Ludovic agreed to sell ore from his mines to my grandfather at a set rate. And he closed down the refineries, so that Vorfolse District did all the refining. That was her dowry.”</p><p>Gregor went on, “But those practices were discontinued a century or more ago. The High Vor families agreed to wait until the couple were older – men had to be at least twenty to marry.”</p><p>“But that wasn’t ever made law, sire,” Nestor was fast as a snake, “It was an agreement, but never written into the laws.”</p><p>“Nevertheless, it’s not a practice that We condone.”  </p><p>Anastasia glared at, apparently, her husband, “Then I want a divorce, or an annulment. Anything. A divorce, I want a divorce, I’m applying to my Count for a divorce.”</p><p>“Granted.”  Maxim bit the word out in savage fury.</p><p>“You can’t.” Nestor was victorious, “She’s married to me, so she’s a Vorfolse. She has to go to Count Vorfolse for a divorce.” He laughed, “And he won’t grant it, trust me!”</p><p>“I don’t care. I’m not your wife, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not touching you, and you’re damn well not touching me! This is ridiculous. I want an annulment!”</p><p>Anastasia felt cold horror. This was a nightmare, it couldn’t be happening.</p><p>“It’s legal, you’re my wife, and there’s nothing you can do about it, we’re married.”</p><p>“Um… actually, I don’t think you are.”</p><p>Everyone turned to look at… Yvgeny.</p><p>He gazed at them earnestly, “I don’t think that you are married. Not any more.”</p><p>“I have the documents right here!  I have the proof!”</p><p>“Yes, but how old are you?”</p><p>“What? What’s that got to do with it?”</p><p>“You were seven… twenty years ago… you’re twenty-seven, right?”</p><p>“What if I am?” Nestor was pugnacious, impatient with anyone who tried to question his rights.</p><p>“Well, according to the old customs and laws, child marriage was indeed common, mostly among the High Vor. A very useful way to link two important families, and of course to guarantee good marriages for the children.”</p><p>“Yes.”  Suspiciously. Nestor was looking for a trap.</p><p>“But part of the process was the confirmation.”</p><p>“… the what?”</p><p>“Confirmation. When the husband became an adult, at the age of twenty, he had to confirm the marriage. He had to agree to it as an adult and co-sign the documents in the presence of his wife to show that they were both living and together. Otherwise it lapsed.”</p><p>“That’s not true!”</p><p>A new voice chimed in, “He’s quite right.”</p><p>“You keep out of it, I don’t need some old bag telling me what to do.” Nestor was snapped back, afraid his big moment was slipping away.</p><p>A voice from nearby, low and furious, “That’s my wife. Professora Vorthys, head of the History department at the Vorbarr Sultana University and the foremost authority on Barrayaran history. You will speak to and about her with respect. And I am Lord Auditor Georg Vorthys.”</p><p>“It’s my right!  We’re married! I have the proof!  I’ll confirm now!”</p><p>Yvgeny shook his head, “Sorry. The time limit is a year and a day. I can show you, if you like – there’s this marvellous book downstairs in the library. From the Time of Isolation. It sets out all kinds of laws they brought in, and why. At the time it was seen as a protection for the children. Nobody could kidnap them and force them into any other marriage – that was a big thing for a while, to get hold of their money. It’s amazing the things in that library. Did you know -”</p><p>Verity patted Yvgeny’s arm and stilled the flow. </p><p>“I have documents. Signed. Proof….”  Nestor could feel his moment slipping away. </p><p>Maxim shook his head, “Out of date, I’m afraid. Unimportant. And so are you.” He nodded to Gorlov and Barlow, hovering at the side of the room. The two men marched briskly over to Anastasia’s lost groom, took one elbow each, picked him up and walked towards the lift shafts, “This way, my lord. Let us assist you.”</p><p>“But I have the documents!” A desperate wail.</p><p>A Vorbarra armsman followed, speaking quietly into his wristcom. </p><p>“I have proof!”</p><p>They vanished from sight. </p><p>There was a moment of silence, and then a round of applause. Some of the guests, who hadn’t been to a High Vor ball before, thought that it was a planned entertainment. </p><p>Laisa was shaking with fury, “How dare he!”</p><p>Gregor was just as angry, but quieter, “How many more are there?”  He looked over at Lord Vorkosigan, who’d also drawn close, “Lord Vorkosigan, We need to consider some legislation in the Council of Counts. Revoking or banning certain historical practices that are now obsolete. Professora Vorthys, can We call on you for help?”</p><p>“Honoured, sire.” She was still simmering over ‘old bag’. </p><p>Olga arrived with several waiters and large amounts of champagne, “Now, we were celebrating. I’m not letting that little blot spoil it!”</p><p>And then the music started again. Usually the Imperial couple would only stay for an hour or so at a private occasion like this. But they stayed, and talked, and danced. Maxim partnered Laisa in a romping Strip the Willow. She bounced delightfully. The Imperial couple did a mirror dance together. Then they joined in the Pride of Erin, and since it was progressive Gregor and Laisa each ended up dancing with an interesting slice of Barrayaran society. </p><p>The Nexus diplomats were pitchforked into the fray, whirling around the floor with all manner of Barrayans who they’d never normally meet. Maxim treasured the memory of the Cetagandan ambassador spinning past with a stout woman who ran one of the successful interior decoration companies in the city. A Betan attache was dancing with the captain of the Vorbarr Sultana archery team. An actress with General Vorkovsky, Countess Vorsmythe with the owner of a string of restaurants. </p><p>Finally the Emperor and Empress headed for home. Maxim found a few moments to bid Anastasia a lingering farewell, “I’ll come and see you tomorrow. Today. Morning coffee? I’ll call you. Sleep well.”</p><p>“I will. I’ll dream of killing that Vorfolse worm. Slowly.”</p><p>“You can be vicious. I like that!”</p><p>The dancing went on until dawn brightened the sky in the ceiling. It took another hour to farewell all the guests, and check all the rooms for Vor lords who’d lost in the drinking games. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Forward Planning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Looking forward, and back.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The family and staff circulated wearily through the rooms, checking carefully for any last, lost guests or items of discarded clothing.  Any surviving food and drink was send down to the kitchens - there’d be stunning leftovers tomorrow, for everyone who made it out of bed. Nobody was officially on duty until noon. </p><p>The tables had been cleared, the cloths collected for washing, and then after a final check the main lights were turned off. There’d be time enough tomorrow, and the next day, to clean up properly and put everything back in place. </p><p>Maxim thanked the staff and dismissed them for the night, then drifted down the stairs after his family. </p><p>He made it to the Great Hall, and collapsed on one of the comfortable seats. Now he knew why they were there. His family had subsided onto some of the others, watching as the almost-armsmen carried the last of the comatose Vor lords out to their waiting groundcars. </p><p>“Verity, you are purely a genius. That was brilliant, from start to finish.”</p><p>“I know. Thank you. And Maxim – you’re betrothed! What an amazing climax to the night – betrothed!”</p><p>He grinned, still lost in the wonder of it. “And now, dear sister,  you have to plan a wedding.”</p><p>Olga gave them a tired smile, “I hope we don’t have to wait too long for it. Talk to her about it tomorrow, Maxim – no, today. It’s today now. Depending on jobs, timing, guests, and all the decisions – it could be six months before it happens. Try to talk her down to three if you can.”</p><p>“We all go down to the District in three days, it’ll take most of that time to clear up this place, and recover from all the carousing. I’ll pilot a lightflyer, there’s others in the garages so the armsmen will take them. We should all fit. Some of the staff can go down on the monorail the day before, with the extra luggage.  Day One in the District will be getting down there, and then the big official splash at New Corinth. Day Two will be the armsmen swearing-in and some business meetings. Day Three I’ll be taking some business associates to the mines in the south, and then a sweep around to the north and back home – a very long day, that one.”</p><p>“I think I have it all sorted, but I wish I’d been down there to see the place. Are you definitely sure there’ll be enough room for your business friends to stay in Glamis itself?”</p><p>“They could bring all their friends and family, their neighbours, their dogs, and all of Vorkosigan’s kittens,  and they’d still fit. You have no idea. The rest of the visit hasn’t been nailed down yet, the days are still open for whatever is needed – so we’ll have the wedding on Day Four. That gives us three or four days in the District afterwards to relax and do a few more meet-and-greets. I may even stay a few days longer, with Anastasia of course, while the rest of you come back here.”</p><p>Verity managed to open her eyes to stare at him, “Are you totally, completely and absolutely INSANE? You can’t demand that the poor woman marries you in a WEEK!!! Maxim, that’s simply not possible!”</p><p>“I’m not letting any more husbands pop up to get in our way. She’s agreed to marry me, we get married. Simple. How hard can it be? She might want a new frock, although she looked lovely tonight. We get a Coach, ask someone to be my Second, invite a few guests, get the groats, done and dusted. Verity, how would you like to be Coach for us?”</p><p>Verity spluttered in outrage. Olga laughed, too tired to do anything else. Yvgeny walked past, humming to himself, “Maxim, what’s the library like down there? Are there more real books? Old ones?”</p><p>“I don’t know, I didn’t find it. You have my permission to search. And Yv – thank you. Thank you for saving my marriage before it even started. Would you like to be my Second?”</p><p>“Oh! Are you fighting a duel?”</p><p>Maxim was too tired to be anything but patient, “No, Yv, I’m getting married. I need a Second and Ivor is off planet. The wedding is able to happen because of you and your amazing old books, so would you like to be my Second?”</p><p>“Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you. Who’s going to stand on the circle for you?”</p><p>“Mother, of course. And Rodan is the next available male in line in the family, so it’ll be him.”</p><p>Verity frowned, “Who will Anastasia have?”</p><p>“Probably her Vorsmythe grandparents. They raised her for years and they’re all still very close.”</p><p>“And her second?”</p><p>“She’s very fond of some of her Vorsmythe cousins, so she’ll ask one of them.”</p><p>Olga managed to get her eyes open to look at him, “Maxim, maybe Anastasia will want some say in where and when she gets married?”</p><p>He shrugged, “She wants to marry me. Surely the sooner the better? And it would give the District a real boost, they’ve been neglected for so long.”</p><p>“So your wedding is a political act?” </p><p>Maxim gave her a level look, “Mother, my wedding is my heart and soul on the line for all to see. My wedding is the moment I become whole again, because until the wedding I feel as if part of me is missing. My wedding will be a moment of pure joy and relief.” He grinned, “And if it makes a useful political statement as well…. Bonus.”</p><p>She relaxed and smiled, “Well, I’m very happy for you both. And so proud of you, Yvgeny, for knowing just the right thing to save the day.”</p><p>Yvgeny smiled, “It was simple. One of those books has all kinds of old laws and things in it – I think the Professora wants to scan it to help Lord Vorkosigan make a list of old laws to repeal. It’s amazing what you find in old books.”</p><p>Maxim nodded, “Yes, it is. And thank you again. You can play in those old books as long as you like.”</p><p>The conversation lapsed. They considered just sleeping where they were, almost too tired to move.</p><p>Yvgeny nattered on, “There some old chests that were right at the back of one of the cellars. Really old, First Century. They’re full of – everything. All sorts of documents, and more, from the first Counts here. Counts Vorkalinopoulos, that is. There’s account books, letters, diaries, and even things like sketchbooks that the daughters of the house used, and their music – they seem to have played a whole variety of instruments. Girls did, then. And there’s instructions for the dances that went with some of the music. And old songs, and poems. There’s lists of armsmen, equipment, the weapons they issued to the armsmen and servants, lists of servants in the House, of the goods they bought in the city, and what had to be brought from the District. Decades of information about every detail of their lives. Apparently someone just scooped up everything that was left over from the Vorkalinopouloses, cleared out cupboards and desks, tossed it in the trunks, and locked it away. Thank goodness there was no damp, no floods, no bugs.  I’m going to use it for my doctorate, about life in the First Century. We’ve never seen a collection of data like this before.”</p><p>“That’s nice. Old parchments and stuff. Someone’s shopping list is now part of history. Great.” Maxim was almost dozing. </p><p>“The music was interesting – I was talking to the conductor of the Vorbarr Sultana orchestra. There’s some music in the trunks that was written for some of the daughters, by their music teacher. He became a well-known composer, but the Professora said that this music hasn’t been seen before. The conductor was very excited.”</p><p>The family were, apparently, frozen with interest. He whittered on, happily, “Then the first Vortaxis Count came along. According to some other old records that we found from the start of the Countship, he married a Sophia Vor-K. Sophia was a family name amongst the Vorkalinopouloses. He probably married the last one.”</p><p>“Sword marriage?”  Verity was mildy interested, “Love story? Or was he just a chancer?”</p><p>“We don’t know yet. The Red Dysentry went through a few times in the First Century, and there were a some civil wars, so maybe the family just died off, or he killed them off. Maybe the last Count made a deal and married off his surviving grand-daughter. Maybe she was the last one of them all.  Anyway, he was a Vorkenzie from the cadet branch of the family, but there was already a Count Vorkenzie.”</p><p>“Why didn’t he take his wife’s name?”</p><p>“Maybe the old Count didn’t want an upstart taking his name, or he didn’t want his wife’s name. He used his first name instead. He was Taksos Vorkenzie, he became Count Vortaksos. The spelling drifted over time.”</p><p>“But there isn’t a Count Vorkenzie.”</p><p>“That whole family lost a war with their neighbours a century or so later. They’re all long gone now.  Did you know, there were about forty Districts at first. Then as the terraforming spread and families splintered, or some men just did a grab for land and power, they grew to nearly eighty. Dorca trimmed it down to sixty, and wrote that into law. Some Districts were chopped up and shared out, and no more changing was allowed. That’s why there’s a Vorhartung Castle and no Vorhartungs; they were wiped out when Dorca was unifying the Counts, and Dorca ended up with the Castle.”</p><p>Verity scowled, “They must have been horrible times.”</p><p>Yvgeny nodded happily, “They were. The First Century was worse. It’s going to be a fascinating study. The Professora says that after I have my doctorate I could re-edit and publish my thesis. She says it would be very popular.”</p><p>Maxim groaned, “We need sleep!”</p><p>“Yes,” Verity mumbled, “But I wonder what it was like for her – for that last Sophia. Was she happy? She was the last of her family, was it a marriage she wanted? Or was she forced?”</p><p>“Anastasia.”  Maxim whispered.</p><p>“Absolutely different,” Olga snapped briskly, “She glows when she’s near you. She was ready to throttle that nasty little Vorfolse. She really wants you. And I want… sleep!  All of you, go and shower, then bed, and a few hours sleep. We have to get up after that and set a good example to the staff.”  She herded them off to bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Going Public</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ahhhh, romance, and a happy couple....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia put down her coffee and stared at her beloved in shock. </p><p>“A WEEK??? You want to get married in ONE WEEK!!!!”</p><p>Maxim smiled at her, “I know how badly you want me.”</p><p>Anastasia struggled to speak. </p><p>“Besides, Verity will do all the work. She’ll be the Coach, too, unless you want someone else. Just send her a list of people you want to invite. We’ll charter a carriage on the monorail for the guests who aren’t coming down in their own lightflyers, and Verity’s getting an overnight block booking on the best quality holiday accommodations in and around New Corinth – the season hasn’t really started, so there’s plenty available. The cream of the guests can stay in Glamis, if they’re brave. Pick out a nice frock, or even buy a new one. Ask your Vorsmythe grandparents – or anyone else you want – to stand on your circle. Get your favourite cousin to be your Second. Done.”</p><p>“And my job? Do I just tell the Empress that I’m walking out on practically no notice?”</p><p>“Well, you can… ask for leave.”</p><p>“So I’m going back to work for her afterwards?”</p><p>“I – I hadn’t thought about it.”</p><p>“What about my extra job, as investigator for her special cases? Is that over now?”</p><p>Maxim leaned back, “You are very complicated. I had everything on track.”</p><p>“Maxim, I’m not a target you’ve acquired.”</p><p>“Well, no, not as such, but… I just want to get things done before something else goes wrong.”</p><p>“Oh what a romantic way you have with words.”</p><p>They sat and glared at each other. </p><p>“Oh look, here’s the lovebirds.”  Lord Vorkosigan stole a chair from a nearby table and plumped himself down beside them. “How’s it all going, then?”</p><p>Icy silence.</p><p>“Good.  Now I’m so pleased to accidently meet up with you in the third café I’ve checked, because there’s a little thing I’d like you to do.”</p><p>“I don’t want another kitten.”  Maxim was glowering now.</p><p>“You have a kitten?” Anastasia was slightly closer to giggles than growls, but holding firm.</p><p>“She’s called Myrtle. She is infesting Vortaxis House.”</p><p>“Just one tiny kitten?”  Lord Vorkosigan looked concerned, “She might be lonely. If you had another one -”</p><p>“I. Do. Not. Want. Another. Kitten. Thank you.”</p><p>Anastasia formed a polite almost-smile, “Lord Vorkosigan, we’re in the middle of our first argument. Perhaps we could see you another time?”</p><p>“This isn’t our first argument.”</p><p>“Yes it is.”</p><p>“No it’s not. You called me an oaf the first time we met.”</p><p>“That was because you knocked me down, jumped on me and crushed my data chips. That wasn’t an argument.”</p><p>“The second time we met you gave a false name and refused to dance with me.”</p><p>“But you took me out on the floor anyway. That was kidnapping, not arguing.”</p><p>“Fine, then this is our first argument. Let’s make it a good one.”</p><p>The Lord Auditor was trying not to laugh, his eyes gleaming, “Much as I’d love to hear the rest, I’m sorry but I need both of you. My groundcar is just outside. That can be a Request and Require if necessary.”</p><p>“What?”  Two outraged voices at once. </p><p>“I’ll explain on the way.”  He hustled them out of the café, towards his waiting groundcar.</p><p>“What the hell is that?  I’ve captained ships smaller than that.”</p><p>“A family relic. You probably have one just like it in some dark corner of your garages.”</p><p>Maxim made a mental note to check the vehicle list again, dammit, he’d meant to do that already. </p><p>The Vorkosigan armsman ushered them into the vehicle, the happy couple were on the back seat and the auditor chose to sit facing them. </p><p>He leaned forward, his silvery-grey eyes intense as he watched them, “First, I need to make it clear that the Request and Require was only so far as this vehicle. From here on you are free to refuse any suggestion, should you so wish.”</p><p>Maxim smiled rather bitterly, “Free to refuse a request from the Emperor. Not very easy to do.”</p><p>“True. But still…think of it as an opportunity.”</p><p>Anastasia wasn’t going to be ignored, “So, my lord, what is this… opportunity… that we’re being offered?”</p><p>Lord Vorkosigan smiled smoothly and settled in to his pitch, “Well now. At the moment you’re both high-profile individuals, due to past events, an unexpected Countship, then your work for the Empress,” a nod to Anastasia, “And your flair for social events,” a smile for Maxim. “And the media are very keen to have some contact with you.”</p><p>Maxim narrowed his eyes, “Yes, we’ve both refused a number of intrusive demands for interviews.”</p><p>“Well, there are advantages to accepting one of those requests.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine any.”</p><p>Vorkosigan persevered, “For one thing, if you grant an interview to one of them, you can control the questions they ask, and as a bonus they will keep all the other vermin off your back.”</p><p>Anastasia spoke thoughtfully, “But there must be other advantages. To other people. For the Emperor to be taking an interest.”</p><p>“Yes, of course. Well, it’s all give and take, isn’t it. For example, just putting a general idea out there, there could be a certain media station that is quite receptive and supportive of the Emperor. I mean, some of them will post just about anything, based on information from some mythical ‘friend’, which translates as ‘we made it up to get better ratings’. But this station does at least try to confirm the rumours. Anyway, if you, as an off-the-cuff example, gave an interview to them, then you’d have total control over the questions they asked you, and the information that went out to the public.  And what a great story you have right now – your work for the Empress, my dear, and the change from being a dedicated military man to a Count,” a nod to Maxim, “And your social events that unite so many different professions and levels of society – which is huge news at the moment – then your exciting betrothal, and the problems with old laws like child marriage; there’s so much there, they’d be wriggling with delight.”</p><p>“And if this imaginary interview went ahead, what would be the benefits? Just speculating, of course.”  Maxim wasn’t giving way.</p><p>“Well, as I said, they’d keep the other vermin off your back. Put the truth out there, so that there’s at least some chance of it surviving.  And the publicity would reassure prospective business partners that you are modern-thinking and trustworthy. Plus the station – just as an example – might have agreed to run a half-hour documentary about the seaside resorts in your District right after the interview. Very good timing, too, just at the beginning of the holiday season. I’m sure it would – just speculating, of course – bring in a flood of new bookings.” He assessed the stony faces in front of him, “And the station, out of gratitude, could – just as a suggestion – offer three…. five… free advertising spots in prime time. For the seaside resorts or any other business you choose.”</p><p>Again Anastasia refused to be ignored, jumping in to the silent contest between the two men, “So… there’s benefits to us. But why is there such Imperial interest in our media interview – if it existed, of course.”</p><p>“Ah. Well. There are several aspects to that.”</p><p>Silence. The happy couple had found some common ground, mainly in the apparently telepathic agreement that Lord Vorkosigan was an untrustworthy, demanding, sneaky little weasel. He questioned the untrustworthy. “Ok, other aspects. Well now, purely as speculation… a media group that acted with loyalty and restraint would expect a reward now and then, like special access to people who would otherwise avoid them like the plague.” Not a flicker from his audience. He ploughed bravely on, “And the interview would show how you two are open to new ideas, dedicated to serving the greater good, the faces of a modern Empire. And since you have close connections to the Empress, and so to the Emperor, it would improve the image of the Empire at a time when there are some important negotiations going on.” </p><p>There are different kinds of silence. This wasn’t the receptive kind.</p><p>“Plus….”  He didn’t get to be an Auditor by giving up easily, “It would be a very large hint to certain other Counts that the Time of Isolation is over and isn’t coming back, and they need to up their game and recognise it.”</p><p>“So payoffs all round.”</p><p>“That’s it!” An encouraging smile.</p><p>“And all we have to do is give up all our privacy and control over our lives.” Maxim’s anger was building.</p><p>“Well, it’s just an interview… you’ll control the questions…”</p><p>“And sit there like a performing monkey?”</p><p>“I’d like to do it.”  Anastasia cut through the masculine contest.</p><p>Both men stared at her. </p><p>“Why?”  Two voices at once. </p><p>“If it helps Laisa, I want to do it. I owe her so much.”</p><p>“But…”  </p><p>“It’s just a few questions. We can do it. For heaven’s sake, Maxim, you went out and let people shoot at you for the Emperor’s sake. These people won’t even have weapons.”</p><p>“I didn’t LET them – ”</p><p>“And we’ll decide what they can ask.”</p><p>“They’re tricky. They’ll find ways to – ”</p><p>“We’ll be trickier.” </p><p>The auditor smiled, “It’s lucky you’re wearing your House uniform today, Count. They particularly asked for the kilt.”</p><p>“Just show me the damn questions.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Under the Lights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Smile for the cameras.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ten minutes later the question list was a triumph of consensus between all three in the groundcar.</p><p>“Well we’re not answering THAT.”</p><p>“Really? That looks pretty safe to me, but I’m not going near THAT one.”</p><p>“How about this instead?”</p><p>“That’s worse.”</p><p>“Well, we could answer this…. And this…”</p><p>“That’s your names.”</p><p>Finally, by ignoring helpful suggestions from the Lord Auditor, they’d crossed out half the questions and substituted a whole new set. The relieved auditor tapped the screen to send the updates through to the studio. </p><p>“Won’t be long now. Just the usual traffic holdups – we really do need that new traffic control system to get up and running.”  The Auditor produced a falsely encouraging tone. </p><p>There was silence for a few moments.</p><p>“Anyway, I don’t know why we have to get married in such a tearing rush. Next week? Do you have any idea of the organisation needed to get married?”</p><p>“Well, no, but Verity handles all that stuff just fine. All you have to do is tell her what you want, and it’s done.”</p><p>“And one more thing is crossed off your checklist.”</p><p>“You’re not a checklist.”</p><p>“House tided up – check.  Better deals for the District – check. Get a wife – check. Then go on to the next thing. You’re just going to check me off the list, put me on a shelf and forget me, and get busy with whatever comes next.”</p><p>“Dammit, Anastasia, that’s not – I won’t – I want to marry you! Despite everything. Besides, you want to marry me. Are you going to get that over and done and then go on to your next big thing? Just ignore me and go on with whatever your plans are?”</p><p>“How can I ignore you!  You keep turning my life upside down!”</p><p>“You turn my whole world upside down!  I want to marry you, despite the fact that you’re the most irritating and argumentative woman ever, because I NEED you, dammit. I want to wake up beside you so that every day is a good day. I want to see you, talk with you, be proud I’m married to you. You’re not some item on a checklist, you’re everything. The whole list. I’m not going to put you away and ignore you, I’m going to be with you, work with you, I want you helping with the District, I want you as the heart of our family. As the heart of me.”</p><p>They fell silent. Vorkosigan watched them, eyes glinting as the groundcar moved through light and shadow. </p><p>“Well, why didn’t you say that before?”</p><p>“I thought I did!”</p><p>Silence again, then Maxim turned to her, “So?”</p><p>“So what?”</p><p>“So… so what about you, dammit.”</p><p>“I know where you are without looking. When you touch me my skin comes alive. Since we met the world has more colour in it. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. But getting married in a week? It’s so rushed, I can’t understand why we have to leap at it like that.”</p><p>“I want to be married to you. You want to be married to me. The wedding is just a moment along the way.”</p><p>“Maybe we need a better moment.”</p><p>“Fine, but…  we won’t wait too long, ok?”</p><p>“Not too long.”</p><p>“Anastasia, what’s the right time?  A month? Six weeks?”</p><p>“We’ll discuss it later. Maybe next Spring.”</p><p>“Next Spring!  But that’s – stop laughing.”  Maxim turned to the Auditor, “So, my Lord Organiser, what do you want us to say?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t presume to put words in your mouths….. Besides, there’s really nothing special to say, this time. Just that you’re happy, and loyal, and look forward to seeing your District become strong and prosperous. You have new ideas, fresh inspirations. But you also admire the old values of loyalty, and so on. You believe in promoting on merit, advancing as many deserving people as possible. Respect all the old traditions, but look to the future.”</p><p>“Oh that’s no challenge.” Maxim smiled bitterly. “I liked it better when I just had to shoot at things.”</p><p>“Ah, happy days,” Vorkosigan looked around, “Good timing, we’re here.”</p><p>The studios were apparently in the middle of a terrible crisis. People rushed madly from one place to another, equipment sped to one side of the studio, then back again. People were calling meaningless strings of numbers to each other. </p><p>An attractive older woman walked over to them, a still calm centre in all the frantic preparations.  “Thank you so much for agreeing to this little chat. I always think it’s important for people to be able to give their side of things.”</p><p>“We have a side?”  Maxim wasn’t with the rosy glow yet. Anastasia nudged him to behave and then the controlled madness took over.</p><p>To Anastasia it was a series of images – hair being foofled, her makeup checked, Maxim giving a silent snarl that sent the makeup artiste scuttling away. The poor man wasn’t paid enough for that. They were seated in some soft, white, upmarket seating (Maxim gave extra care to the arrangement of his kilt. Mind you, if they wanted ratings….) There was some quiet  ‘put you at your ease’ chatting with the poised, perfect interviewer, and then someone called out ‘In five!’ and suddenly the lights seemed brighter.</p><p>The interviewer smiled at the cameras and introduced her guests. It all flowed so easily; she’d give a quick summary of Maxim’s military career, pause for his comment; an edited version of Anastasia’s family history, sympathetic moment with her; the challenges of being a new Count, pause for some wry comments from Maxim; and so on. </p><p>“I understand that you’ve been choosing armsmen – and one of them isn’t from your District. Isn’t that against all custom?”</p><p>“It’s unusual, perhaps, but each Count can choose whoever he wants as his armsmen. The man in question was my batman for many years, we served together and faced enemy fire several times. He’s a fine man, he’s loyal and honest, and he has my total trust – which are the most important qualities for an armsman. We need to maintain the finest parts of our traditions but also adapt to the times.”</p><p>The interviewer smiled, this was pure gold. </p><p>Maxim smiled, he was putting the right message across.</p><p>Anastasia decided to go with the flow – as long as it was flowing the way she wanted. She managed to give a warm and positive moment to the Empress’s work with those women – and a few men, now – who had fallen through the cracks of the system and needed intervention from the ‘Empress’s Justice’. No matter how good the basic structures, sometimes justice needs a bit of extra help, there’s always a few people who fall through the cracks, special cases that deserve a little re-examination. And the Empress believed in fairness, and helping those who’d had a bad deal from life, and the world… </p><p>Maxim wasn’t going to be left behind, he talked about his hopes for the District, and hinted at important news soon, new businesses and industries that would bring much-needed jobs. </p><p>Anastasia described her work with the committees – in a positive way, praising the tireless volunteers who worked to make the Empire a better place. She had a few funny stories about her own mistakes, nothing to offend anyone. She didn’t mention feuds, or misappropriation of funds, she tiptoed through the tulips to talk about helping keen volunteers towards better accounting, to free their resources up for more efficient use. Flowers and animals, you can’t go wrong with that.</p><p>Maxim chatted about the improvements to Vortaxis House. He dropped some hints about the amazing books in his library, and the interest from the University. Stunning discoveries that would be shared, almost freely, for the study and understanding of the past. </p><p>Then the talk became more personal and turned to their first meeting, described by Anastasia to chuckles from the interviewer. Maxim mentioned some of their later highlights. The interviewer skimmed gracefully over any criticism of their relationship, they made it clear that nothing was arranged or planned… it just took one look. Cue loving smiles at each other. Interviewer sighs happily.</p><p>The interviewer gave her cosy smile, and launched into some questions about the ball. “All of Vorbarr Sultana is talking about it.”</p><p>“Well, most of them were there.”</p><p>And after a few important details about some high-profile invitees, the dances, the clothes, and that incredible transparent ceiling, she moved on to the betrothal.</p><p> “But I believe there was a problem?”</p><p>A slightly nasty pause, and then Anastasia explained about child marriage, “…An outdated custom that may have been useful at one time, but is certainly not a part of modern Barrayar. The Emperor has a committee searching the old records, and making a list of old laws that are still on the books. It’s high time for a change.”</p><p>Names weren’t mentioned. The episode was presented as something that was confronting and almost shocking at the time, but quickly resolved. Almost funny in retrospect. Mention was made of the swift Imperial response to the problem, and the importance of overhauling out-of-date laws for a modern Barrayar. If anyone realised that this was the whole point of the interview, they didn’t let it show.</p><p>“I suppose you’ll be working to make the wedding even bigger and better.”</p><p>Maxim nodded, smiling ruefully, “I’m learning about the importance of planning. Weddings take time and organisation.”</p><p>“Well, you want to make a really big splash. It’s a statement, after all.”</p><p>Anastasia was silent as the carefully structured chatter went on, then suddenly she leaned forward, “No.”</p><p>For the first time, the interviewer had a spontaneous facial expression, “No? No… to what?”</p><p>“No, it’s not a statement. It doesn’t have to be a splash. A wedding is just a moment in our lives, an important one, but just one moment. It’s when we two join our futures together, it’s our moment. It’s what comes after, for the rest of our lives, that’s more important. A wedding is just the way we start. We’ve already made the statement. We love each other. We stood up at our betrothal and told the world. And that couldn’t have had a bigger or better audience.”  She studied Maxim for a moment, “As a matter of fact, our wedding is going to be in a week’s time. We have a coach, we’ll speak to the Seconds, and the others on our circle, this afternoon. Guests and food are easy enough to organise, if we want them – this will be for close friends and family, and our District, not for the world. It’ll be held in the District, because that’s the important part of our lives now. And then we’re married, we’re together, and … and we go on. That’s the important part. It’s what you do next – you decide what you want and work towards it, you go on and build your life.”</p><p>Maxim took her hand, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to miss out on anything - women love all the fuss and fun of it all.”</p><p>“This woman loves you.”</p><p>And the interviewer sighed blissfully at the thought of the ratings.</p><p>It wound down quickly after that, there wasn’t any way to top that moment. The very satisfied Lord Auditor scooped them up, “They’ll do the editing now, add in some vidclips – they have them all ready – send it to the Residence for a final check, and it’ll go out tonight. Should be a huge hit for the station. And for you two, of course.”</p><p>He dropped them off, at their request, at Vorsmythe House. Maxim already knew Count Vorsmythe from his business dealings so the impromptu family meeting went well. The Count and Countess would be standing on the circle for Anastasia, in lieu of parents. They were delighted to see their grand-daughter so happily settled, in a way they recognised as being a success. Anastasia just smiled and agreed. </p><p>Maxim had called his nearly-armsman with his groundcar. He turned to his fiancé, “The Residence? Or do you want to go anywhere else?”</p><p>Anastasia shook her head, “Back to the Residence, please.”</p><p>They settled into the comfortable seats – it was considerably smaller than the Vorkosigan mammoth, but Maxim’s car was beautifully comfortable. Maxim had already sent Verity a quick message, ‘Wedding is go’. She probably had it organised by now.</p><p>“Where will the wedding be?”</p><p>“I thought we’d have it at Glamis.”</p><p>“Has Verity seen Glamis?”</p><p>“That’s a delight in store for her.”</p><p>“Oh dear.”</p><p>“If it’s fine we’ll use that main courtyard, maybe. Or that cleared land out the front. Or the roof? Whatever. You can decide.”</p><p>“And you really want it in the District?”</p><p>“They need to see us, and feel that we are committed to them. A nice traditional wedding in the District will be the perfect way to show that we belong.”</p><p>“Really? You want to go full traditional?”</p><p>“Of course. The people in the District need to know that they can trust their Count. That he respects them and their background, their traditions. I need to show that I want to really belong; after all, I’m a total stranger to them right now.”</p><p>“You’re…”</p><p>“Amazing? Wonderful?”</p><p>“I was drifting closer to ‘foolhardy’.”</p><p>The traffic was still a bit slow. They made good use of the time. </p><p>“The Residence my lord. Mam’selle.”</p><p>Clothing was rearranged and hair tidied before the armsmen – moving carefully slowly – opened their compartment. </p><p>“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Things to do!”</p><p>“Wait – do you need money for … clothes or something? What can I give you – do you need anything?”</p><p>“I make good money, thank you. Maxim – no! You can’t do that here!  ImpSec is watching! Maxim, we’ll talk tomorrow. Go home and clean up your house.” </p><p>“With any luck it’s been done by now.”</p><p>One last, lingering kiss – totally and very carefully ignored by all the Residence security – and then he was gone.</p>
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<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Details, Details...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Even when Verity's organising it, there's a lot to do for a wedding.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anastasia hurried through the corridors, making lists in her head. There was so much to do!</p><p>Well… not really, though. Most of the wedding party were sorted. She’d need something to wear. Let Verity know if she wanted anything special, but she really couldn’t think of anything right now. She’d have to chat with her at some time about the details of the wedding. The main thing was the invitations, they had to go out fast.</p><p>Halfway to her office she was hijacked by a hovering armsman, “The Empress would like a word, please, Mam’selle.”</p><p>The Empress was busy with a pile of flimsies. “Oh, Anastasia. At last!”</p><p>“Er, yes, I’m sorry about the longest morning coffee break ever. In my defence….Lord Auditor Vorkosigan.”</p><p>“Say no more. Actually, I knew he was looking for you, but not in time to give you a warning. I presume you and Count Vortaxis agreed to the interviews, then?”</p><p>“The spirit of the Vicereine – and you – settled on me and I braved my way through it.”</p><p>“Well done!”</p><p>“And… um… as part of the interview I – well, I was on the crest of a wave – so I agreed to Maxim’s suggestion… The wedding is in the District. In a week’s time.”</p><p>Laisa stared at her, “A WEEK? We did ours in six months and people thought we were scandalously rushed. There’s no way you can do it in a week!”</p><p>“Well, I think Verity can organise just about anything. I have a whole new view of theatre companies and orchestras – she seems to be able to deal with whatever comes along, and does it brilliantly.”</p><p>“Don’t forget the travelling circus.”</p><p>“Yes, that was good practice for all this.  But… well… we’ll invite people, and they come or they don’t. Most of them saw the betrothal, so it’s sort of done anyway. We line up the people we really need, for our circle, and let the rest just happen. He wants to go full traditional, so the format is settled. The legal side is easy, there’s not much to sort out, it’ll just be the standard agreements, I suppose. I’ll get a new dress. Please, can I borrow Sophie to do my hair?”</p><p>“Of course. Just ask her, I think she’d leap at the chance. She’s a very motivated young woman, I know, she’s gone for special training to improve her chances at her dream job.”</p><p>“So all I need is my Second, and I’m done. My lady… Laisa… I owe you so much. I’d like to ask you to be my second – but I know that you have so many demands on your time, and a whole day for a wedding – ”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Uh, yes… you’re busy?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll be your Second. Yes! Thank you!”  She jumped up to give Anastasia a quick, Imperial hug. “And my first act as Second is… to give  you the rest of the afternoon off. Go and buy a dress for your wedding. I only wish I could go with you, but if I’m taking a whole day off, I’ll have to get some things organised.”</p><p>“Ohhh you are truly wonderful, thank you. But first, I – I don’t know what’s happening afterwards. About my work.”</p><p>“Oh. Yes.”</p><p>“I want to keep on with it, I – ”</p><p>“You’ll have to take on a lot for your District. And there’ll be social events with Maxim, and general Countess stuff. Anastasia, I can’t see that you can keep on with it.”</p><p>“But…”</p><p>”I can’t see that you can keep on with the committees – and frankly I think we’ve got through the worst of it. Most of them are taking a lot more care with their funds and account-keeping now. I can get another accountant to handle that.”</p><p>“Oh. Fine.”  She felt a bit forlorn at being so easily replaced.</p><p>“HOWEVER, there are two totally different parts to your job right now. …. Your special duties, the investigative side, only come up now and then. I’d like to be able to call on you when I need that expertise.”</p><p>“That … that’s ideal. Laisa, you’re wonderful!”</p><p>“I do so like hearing that. Now go and buy the perfect dress, while I find myself a new accountant.”</p><p>Anastasia decided to spoil herself for her wedding dress – nothing from the warehouse this time, but a real bespoke gown, made just for her. </p><p>But she did cheat just a bit. Sophie, her eager and helpful aspiring lady’s maid, had mentioned a cousin who’d completed several design courses, and was trying to set up her own salon, ‘But of course the High Vor ladies won’t go to someone who hasn’t made a name for herself, and you can’t make a reputation until you have clients. She’s worked for several of the big-name salons, but they tend to cater to the more mature Countesses. Nara is hoping to get the younger ladies, who want Barrayaran, but also Komarran and Nexus fashions as well, something with that special touch of style. But she has to work up to that.’</p><p>She took Sophie with her and visited Nara’s establishment – a suite in a modern office block, so unlike the gracious old-time buildings favoured by most of the fashionable salons that catered to High Vor. Nara was ecstatic to have such a high-profile client; especially one who ordered several other outfits as well, “I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe. As a Countess I’ll be busy, and getting a lot of attention, so I’ll have to look presentable all the time, and my current everyday clothes are starting to look a bit tired. And besides, I’ve worn all of my formal outfits, too, several times. You can only mix and match so much.” </p><p>Sophie and Nara were full of ideas about style and colour, and the exact shades and fabrics that would suit a fashionable and hardworking young Countess.</p><p>They settled on quite a few of the outfits, this was her trousseau after all, and Nara had suggestions for the styles for shoes, underthings, and all the important accessories to go with them. So far her clients were mostly young professional women, but now – this might propel her into the heady upper levels of dressmaking society. She offered a discount because of the size of the order, well worth it as an investment. </p><p>“You know,” Anastasia mused as she flicked through some colour samples, “You need to have some contacts for the rest of it – the shoes, and lingerie and so on. Offer the full service; when a client orders the gown, you can call in some people with the right underwear and shoes. She walks out with the whole thing done.”</p><p>“I’m sure I’ll build that up, in time, mam’selle.”</p><p>“And the best way…”  Anastasia was following an idea as it formed, “The BEST way, would be some kind of association. Club. Official group, of young professional women. A way to network and help each other.”</p><p>“I don’t know of one, though.”</p><p>“How about meetings, once a month, at Vortaxis House? Just a nice High Tea to circulate and simply chat with each other, make links that could be mutually helpful. Perhaps a short talk at the beginning of each session – about new taxes, or account keeping, import duties, whatever. I’ll be a bit busy for the next few weeks, and it’ll take a little time to collect some names as a core group to start us off. How about I contact you in a few weeks, and we’ll compare the lists of possibles we’ve accumulated by then. Maybe the first meeting a week after that?”</p><p>“Uh...yes… that sounds… perfect.”  Nara felt a bit breathless, but her future was suddenly a lot more promising. She smiled at Sophie in gratitude, for bringing this career-changing client along. </p><p>“Excellent. I’ll need the wedding gown in three days. The rest as soon as possible, preferably in a week. Deliver the wedding gown to the Residence, care of Sophie, the rest to Vortaxis House, care of Countess Vortaxis. I don’t like to pay in advance, it’s generally bad practice, but I’m going to be a bit busy for a few days so I’ll transfer all the funds to you now. Sophie recommended you, and says you’ll do a fine job.”  Anastasia signed away most of her savings, but it was worth it. She was fully committed to her new life now. </p><p>Ten minutes later Anastasia was back at the groundcar, “Just a few more stops, for shoes and lingerie, and then we’ll head to Vortaxis House, please, Teskovic.”  As they nosed into traffic she called Verity on her wristcom. Time to get some serious planning sorted out. Anastasia started working on the invitation list. Now, they could get the invitations sent out tomorrow…</p>
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<a name="section0040"><h2>40. It's My District Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Local customs are a wonderful thing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In three days Vortaxis House was immaculate again, everything cleaned and put away until the next time. Wedding invitations had been sent out, and most acceptances had already been returned – despite the shockingly short notice, it was a amazing number of acceptances. Everyone was surprised at the rush, but most of them just accepted it as true love, or the fear of something else trying to spoil the event. There was also a growing suspicion that the Vortaxis clan was ever-so-slightly crazy, but in the nicest possible way – and it made them fun to watch, too. Incredibly smart, very hardworking, likeable and friendly, very honourable and loyal, even admirable… but the crazy was strong in them. </p><p>Some guests decided to go down and back in a day, others were staying a night or two, those who could were making a bit of a short holiday of it – it would be a nice break away from Vorbarr Sultana. </p><p>Several gentlemen were heard to remark that it was a refreshing change from the incredibly drawn-out fuss and hysteria that certain females had shown during their own wedding organisation. Several ladies were heard to remark that certain gentlemen might care to sleep on the couch in the study for a while. </p><p>Maxim assisted by keeping out of Verity’s way as much as possible; his helpful suggestions weren’t well received for some reason. And he did actually have a great deal of last-minute work to do before he faced the District.</p><p>Yvgeny was in the library, in a blissful bibliophilic haze, surrounded by similar researchers from the university. Maxim would hear cries of delight from them now and then. He’d never heard anybody making those noises for a book before. </p><p>Anastasia was in and out of Vortaxis House, in cahoots with Verity. At least she noticed him, and was glad to see him – mostly with a quick hug and kiss in passing. </p><p>“Wait – I’ve hardly seen you – can’t you stay for a while?”</p><p>“Remind me, which of us started the plan to get married in a week?”</p><p>“You don’t even have one minute…?”</p><p>“One minute with you … isn’t nearly enough. And once I start kissing you – Maxim!  People will see!  You’ll shock the students, the library is just over there!”</p><p>“They’re students. They want to learn. Let’s give them a bit of Show and Tell.”</p><p>“Maxim, you’re terrible!  Well, just five minutes…”</p><p>Anastasia had a session with the family lawyer. She had to sign a surprising number of forms; becoming a Countess meant she was given access to certain funds, and would also have her own personal District income and responsibilities. And there were wills to be made and signed, and various agreements about all the ‘what-ifs’ involving being widowed with or without children, being guardian of under-age children and Voice in the District if she was widowed before her son was an adult, taking over the District if her husband was called away, her future duties and obligations, and more problems and disasters that she’d never even considered. She pointed out that they’d forgotten to include tidal waves. They directed her to Page 17. </p><p>Fortunately they mostly stuck with the standard, accepted format for all the documents and didn’t see the need to make too many changes. She staggered away from the meeting with a much fatter bank account than she’d ever had before, a whole new set of worries, and a rather frightening list of new responsibilities.</p><p>Ma Kennerli had already been sent down to Glamis to organise the food for the wedding, for the family’s stay there for a week, and for the influx of guests. As far as she was concerned, the food was the most important part of the whole event. Madame de Lacey was down there as well, supervising, Maxim understood, household stuff. Beds, sheets, and whatever else they needed for a houseful of guests. He trusted her to know what to do … maybe set out towels for the guests, or something. It always seemed to be done perfectly, and he wasn’t going to micro-manage her. He didn’t dare. Her job was the equivalent of running a large hotel, two large hotels now. She seemed to relish the challenge, after years of boredom with Ludo.</p><p>Through discussions with Kravik – always a useful intelligence-gatherer – Maxim now knew that there was a huge network of high-class staff based in Vorbarr Sultana. Housekeepers and head cooks; ladies’ maids and valets to the cream of society; and various other high-level staff. They had their own standards for respect, their own fame, their own status and precedence, and their own foundations for pride. Ma Kennerli and Madame de Lacey, deeply involved in their Count’s wedding, had seen their status increase by leaps and bounds. Working for Ludo, even though he was a Count, wasn’t worth much because he didn’t entertain and didn’t have a high public profile. Now, with all the new guests and action around the House, his staff were revelling in the increased respect from their peers. </p><p>The livery for the armsmen was delivered – Maxim was touched by their attempts to hide their excitement about the oath-taking. It was rare for a Count to have such a large ceremony, and they were all eager to be his sworn men. Armsmen, too, had their own marks of status in the eyes of their peers. </p><p>Maxim was realising that every decision he made, every action he took, now affected so many other people in ways he’d never suspected. It was somewhat like his time in the Service, but this went even deeper, and this time it depended on him personally, not his actions as one small part of a much bigger organisation. There was nobody above him now, he was the man responsible. Every decision he took affected his people – their careers, their status, their lives. And he couldn’t let all his people down. </p><p>When it comes to weddings, there are some traditions that just have to be followed. Fortunately, Maxim’s service friends had quickly organised a Gentleman’s Night for him. Out of respect for the fine Vortaxis traditions all the gentlemen wore kilts, or some approximation of them; they were a stunning sight on the streets of Vorbarr Sultana. As Second Yvgeny should have been in charge, but… no. They did drag him out of his beloved library and take him along, though. They toured many of the finest, and some of the worst, drinking establishments in Vorbarr Sultana. There were various drinking games, and penalties – mostly involving ouzo or retsina.  After Yvgeny’s third bottle of wine he started singing in a fine clear tenor; he knew more old-time drinking songs than anyone else knew existed, many with the most ribald lyrics. Most of the group already knew classics like ‘On board the scout-ship Venus…’ but none of them had heard ‘The Ball of Glamis House’ before. Soon they were all singing lustily as they reeled around the streets. Maxim hoped that they wouldn’t remember it in the morning. </p><p>Some of Maxim’s new friends were invited along too, so it was a large, happy group herded by armsmen of half a dozen different Houses. They all ended up at Vortaxis House to greet the dawn, lying in and around the pool and scattered through the gardens with their kilts shockingly,  gloriously, awry.</p><p>Maxim had one day and a lot of sober-pills before he had to fly down to the District and look presentable. </p><p>Anastasia had a Lady’s Night. Laisa and Verity organised it all; they had decided to hold it at the Residence – but in one of the older, more remote wings of the vast building, where there were no witnesses. There was a happy mixture of Vorsmythe cousins, Vortaxis relatives, co-workers past and present, and friends from University. Like the gentlemen they had alcohol, but in pretty colours and attractive glasses, and nobody became riotously drunk, although there were many giggles. They had various traditional party games for the occasion, a version of ‘truth or dare’ that had them screaming with laughter, and a game that was based on the old ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ but… not with a tail, or a donkey.  There was music, and some dancing – and not just by the ladies. The Vorbarra armsmen on duty around the outskirts of the event would go to their graves before they ever whispered a word about male strippers. </p><p>ImpSec had screaming conniptions about all of it, which was why Laisa had compromised on having the Lady’s Night at the Residence. And they were even more fussed about the Imperial couple attending a wedding, held in Vortaxis District, at such short notice. The sight of Glamis brought strong men to their knees, in shock and misery at the thought of trying to search and secure it all. Laisa pointed out helpfully that if ImpSec only had a short time to check and secure everything, then any possible attackers had even less time, and would be very obvious trying to infiltrate the quiet District. ImpSec didn’t reply.</p><p>On the morning of Day One In The District, as Verity had named it, some of the staff and a frighteningly large amount of luggage took the early morning monorail down to the New Corinth station. Maxim, the family and the remaining staff left after a quick breakfast, all in their best Meet-the-District clothes. Verity made Maxim sit in the passenger pod, and Kravik flew them. Olga took Yvgeny into the other flyer – Maxim really wasn’t in any condition for several hours of Yvgeny at close quarters. The remaining distributed themselves between the two vehicles. </p><p>The security company that had been hired to look after Vortaxis House was left in charge for the week, with various instructions about the building workers and a plant-watering crew who’d all be coming in, and possibly some wedding presents being delivered. Oh, and the research teams from the University, who’d be working  in the Library each day. And a temporary kitchen crew and cleaning team, brought in to keep the place neat and to feed the denizens of the library, the gardeners, the construction people and anyone else who needed a sandwich. They also had to feed Myrtle. For an empty house, it was actually very busy. </p><p>Maxim settled in for a long flight. “Verity, you did sort out the vidcam coverage for today’s big arrival?”</p><p>“Yes, of course. Only the local stations have permission to vid anything, and if the big boys want some pretty pix they will have to pay for them. I understand most of them have made deals already – a nice little bonus for the local media, for which they are very grateful.”</p><p>“And the accommodation…”</p><p>“Most of the wedding guests are in very nice holiday-let accommodations in New Corinth. Classy ones, of course. Family and some close friends and special guests are in Glamis itself, while ImpSec has mild hysterics about it all. Madame de Lacey has taken charge from the skeleton team who’d been keeping things in order down there, and she has everything working smoothly under her control. We’d already put a full team – well,  several teams, really – through the place after you took your oath as Count, to get it cleaned up and ready. She said they’d finally retrieved them all, whatever that means. I’ve left it all to her, she’s very capable. She assures me there’ll be enough room.”</p><p>“You could quarter the Second Fleet there. There’d be enough  room.”</p><p>“I can’t wait to see it. And Ma Kennerli is in charge of all food for the duration, she’s mobilised the Culinary Institute to handle the extras. She was a star pupil there, many years ago, and the current Principal is a cousin of hers. I understand they’re using it as practical experience for the students. Nearly all the food is sourced locally. Maxim, I’ve told you all this a thousand times already.”</p><p>“You have the best suite for Anastasia? It has to be perfect when she gets here.”</p><p>“It will be. I promise. They’re shampooing the rats as we speak.”</p><p>“Very funny. Just make sure it’s perfect for her.” </p><p>“Trust me, this wedding will be unforgettable.”</p><p>“And during the ceremony the vid companies…”</p><p>“Will be there, locals only, and they’ll broadcast it to the whole District, and sell it to the big boys nationally.”</p><p>“And – “</p><p>“Just how long is this flight? Because if you keep on like this I’m going to make them land, and I’ll swap places with Yvgeny.”</p><p>As they neared their destination the two family flyers veered off for New Corinth, the others went on to Glamis. By the time he got there the rest of the staff and luggage would have arrived, rooms would be prepared, food cooked, and whatever else the staff did, would be done and ready.  Or it could be total screaming chaos – it was a fifty-fifty chance either way. </p><p>They flew over New Corinth, all shining white buildings with blue roof tiles, set where a river ran into a large bay. Blue waters, white sand beaches, bright sunlight in the wide cornflower-blue sky, it was truly lovely to greet the new Count. Flowers and banners were everywhere, Hunter Green ribbons and streamers flew proudly.</p><p>North and South along the coast were seaside resorts, most of them in the same white-walled buildings, a few with red, grey or green roof tiles instead of blue. The media were already showing coverage of the preparations in the resorts, and in smaller towns and villages too; there were going to be huge parties to celebrate the wedding of their new Count. The District had high hopes for a bright future. </p><p>The District Building was in the centre of New Corinth, at the end of a large area of open parkland and gardens, called the Common. Maxim knew the locals used it for fairs, celebrations, and just as a place to congregate and relax.</p><p>The two Vortaxis lightflyers were waved down to a marked – off area on the Common, in front of the District Building. A temporary stage had been erected beside the landing zone. </p><p>“Put your nice jacket on, sort out your kilt, there we are – now you get out there and smile!”</p><p>Maxim exited the flyer, Kravik falling in beside him. Barlow helped Verity out, Olga and Yvgeny were being assisted out of theirs – none of them needed the help, but the nearly-armsmen were taking their job seriously and making a good show for the audience. And then he was up on the stage, surveying the people who were depending on him for their survival.</p><p>Maxim stepped forward, resplendent in his best House uniform, glistening in the sunlight, far better-looking than any man had a right to be, facing a handful of vidcams and a huge, silent crowd that filled the rest of the Common. For a long moment, nobody moved. Then Maxim stepped forward and – </p><p>And a noise that he’d never heard before tore through the air. It sounded like a huge animal being tortured – no, animals, it had to be more than one. And… was that feet beating the ground? Was it a stampede?</p><p>As he looked around, ready to hurl his mother to safety, a team of men marched towards him, the crowd parting to let them through. </p><p>They were marching four abreast, with a leader out in front waving a long weapon – not a spear, it had a rounded head. All of the men were wearing kilts, and they appeared to be squeezing animals to death, slowly and loudly. Behind them were two rows of drummers. </p><p>By the seven circles of Hell, this was a band. </p><p>Yvgeny drifted up beside him, “Bagpipes!  One of our favourite District instruments!”</p><p>“They’re making that sound on PURPOSE?”</p><p>“I think that tune is called ‘Vortaxis the Brave’.”</p><p>The band marched towards their Count, then came to a halt. At some invisible signal from the bandleader they all finally throttled the suffering animals and the band fell silent. </p><p>Cleon Savas stepped forward in his mayoral robes, “Count Vortaxis, welcome to New Corinth!”</p><p>And the people cheered, loud and long. </p><p>Finally Maxim keyed his button mike and made a speech – not quite the careful one he’d planned, he was actually moved by their enthusiasm. He thanked the band, and the Mayor for the warm welcome.  </p><p>“…I know there are many needs in this – in our – District. I have already started on solving this problem. I have formed a consortium of respected and trustworthy businessmen. The refineries near the mines will be re-opened in the next month, and we will begin to refine our own ore. Later there will be manufacturing set up, to take the process even further.”</p><p>He had to pause for the enthusiastic applause to die down.</p><p>“And in the North, the military are setting up a permanent training base, for engineers and mechanics, to test and train on new equipment.”  </p><p>Since more than half the families in the District had at least one member in the military, with mechanics and engineers the most common assignments, this was also rousingly popular. </p><p>“I will also be opening a commercial centre in Vorbarr Sultana, selling selected District goods to the city and making vidsales to the rest of Barrayar. I will be taking advice from Spiro Pavlides, my District Business Manager.”  </p><p>He indicated Pavlides, waiting beside the mayor. More applause. </p><p>“There are more plans taking shape, and I’ll be making further announcements shortly.”</p><p>More applause, out of hope and excitement. The new Count was already popular, and bringing much-needed jobs to the District. Ludo’s combination of neglect and greed had seen the District economy pared back to the bone; people had kept things going as well as they could, but there was no safety net, they well knew that they were all just one small step from disaster. More jobs, more money for the District, had come just in time.</p><p>Then Maxim introduced his family. The applause was enthusiastic. </p><p>“And now I’m going to spend some time getting to know you, and my District. But I might have to save some for next time, because in a few days I have to go to a wedding!”</p><p>Huge laughs, final applause, and general relaxation. </p><p>Maxim and the family did a walk around the Common, meeting and greeting as they went. Then the family split up, each of them being escorted around a different part of New Corinth by teams of officials, to share the excitement with as many people as possible. Savas took Maxim on a tour around the town, viewing the major points of interest – most of which were the places where something used to be before some war or invasion came along and destroyed it - and then they all met back at the District Building for refreshments. </p><p>The family were ushered into a quiet room to rest for a moment; they subsided onto blessedly soft chairs and took a short break before the official luncheon.  </p><p>They all stared out the large (and fortunately one-way) windows at the milling population, who’d set up stalls and were having a festival to celebrate. Maxim was starting to suspect that his District was going to celebrate everything they possibly could from now on, as a reaction to the leaner times under Ludo. Well, let them have their fun, they deserved it. He was realising that there were so many different levels and groups that depended on his every action and decision. And each one had their own independent forms of status, and success. People needed their pride. He wanted to be a Count they could be proud of. </p><p>Maxim watched the crowds, “There’s quite a few men in kilts, all different patterns of tartans, out there. But why are so many of them in white kilts?”</p><p>Yvgeny studied them, “Well, the ones dressed like us, with green or red or black jackets and some kind of tartan kilt, are Scotchiss background. The ones with the loose white shirts, embroidered red, green or blue waistcoats and white kilts and leggings, they’re Greek-background.”</p><p>“So in my District real men wear skirts.”</p><p>“It’s traditional. Plenty of men have the shirts and waistcoats, with baggy black pants, too, see over there. And the women have the same sort of jackets or waistcoats, with long skirts. They all seem in touch with their heritage. But there’s also quite a few with the sort of clothes you’d see in any other District, too, Russian especially. There’s quite a mix here.”</p><p>“I hope there’s no feuds.”</p><p>“They probably only wear the traditional outfits for special occasions, and something more ordinary the rest of the time.”</p><p>Olga was chatting to Verity, “There was some lovely lacework in a few of those shops I saw. That would sell well in the city.”</p><p>“And the boots, and some gorgeous jewellery.”</p><p>Maxim joined in, “There’s a couple of whisky distilleries, that will sell well. And there’s Ouzo and Retsina, too. We need to start while we’re on the wave of publicity.  One of the buildings I own, with shops on the ground floor, needed maintenance and refitting, so I’ve taken over the shops. It’s in a great location, and we’ll call it Vortaxis Centre. Make a list of anything you think will sell, we’ll run trials to see what moves off the shelves. We’ll get Pavlides to source the best quality of everything, maybe he can find us a couple of different producers for each item to spread the wealth.”</p><p>Luncheon was on long tables set up on the Common, so that people could see their Count and his family enjoying the special dishes, all traditional food. Notables from the District shared the tables with them, Maxim was able to start to get to know his support network in the District. They each obviously were bursting to tell him all about their main concerns, but mercifully Pavlides had warned them all to keep this first session light and easy, it was just an introduction. </p><p>After lunch there were some performances; children from different sectors doing their traditional dances and singing – all four Barrayaran languages were represented, and each choir and dance group were staunch in showing off their culture. Maxim was starting to recognise subtle differences in the outfits from one place to another – changes in colour, style, and embroidery. He mentioned it to Pavlides, who told him that each town and village had their own signature. Maxim sighed, thinking of all the details he’d have to memorise.</p><p>Pavlides also explained that Greek-background was the largest group in the District, and were mostly settled along the coast. The Scotchiss and English  - who were two very distinct groups – were towards the south. The Scotchiss were quite prominent, due to their connection to the Vortaxis Counts. The Russian-background group were smaller, and mostly found in the north. The French were the smallest group, and they were mainly in New Corinth and the other largest towns. And, Maxim realised, he would have to unite them all while still maintaining their pride in their own culture. Fortunately over time there’d been more and more intermarriages, so most residents, even if they identified with one group, actually had connections to others as well. He’d have to respect the cultures and traditions of his District, he had to be one of them. He’d figure it out – or, better yet, Anastasia would. She had more experience of this District, even if it was just as a child.</p><p>After the children danced there were was a group of adult dancers, in kilts, who walked towards him with swords, but then put them on the ground and danced around them. It was all very impressive, with kilts swaying wildly. Nobody sliced a foot off, so he presumed they’d done a good job.</p><p>It was a long day, and there was one more performance from the band – Maxim wondered how many animals they killed in a week. And what they did with them. </p><p>And then finally they farewelled New Corinth and headed for Glamis.</p><p>The second lightflyer had already left, to make more space on the Common, so Kravik and Gorlov were in the pilot compartment, the family together in the rear. </p><p>“It’s not far to Glamis, it’s up on the cliffs beyond the town; there’s some nice beaches below the cliffs.”</p><p>“What is it with our ancestors and cliffs?”</p><p>“And here we are – that’s Glamis.”  Maxim pointed to a distant shape.</p><p>Verity, for once, was speechless.</p><p>Olga frowned, “Which part?”</p><p>“All of it.”</p><p>“But… they built that? On purpose?”</p><p>“Our ancestors did.”</p><p>“Your ancestors. I married in.”</p><p>Finally Verity recovered, “How… what were they THINKING?”</p><p>“I think each generation was thinking, ‘What haven’t we added yet?’ “</p><p>“How big is it?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Nobody’s counted properly. It’s well past a thousand rooms. Probably double that.”</p><p>“On the bright side, we won’t have to double up on rooms when the guests arrive.”</p><p>Yvgeny was gazing at the massive place with interest, “Is there a library?”</p><p>“Probably. I haven’t found it yet, but that doesn’t mean anything. I haven’t had time to look. There’s probably several in there somewhere.”</p><p>Verity frowned, “We’ll need maps for the guests. Otherwise we’ll lose some. They may never be found again.”</p><p>“The trick is to look out the window, spot a landmark, and use it to navigate.”</p>
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<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Glamis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just build the mental picture....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Glamis lay along the cliffs, like a dragon curled up and waiting to pounce. It was built – mostly – of dull mottled grey stone with outbreaks of brick here and there. There were grey slates, and brown or dark blue tiles.  And it was huge.</p><p>As they approached the stately pile, Yvgeny started explaining, happily, “I read up on it. The original Countly residence was further along the cliffs. But after a few wars there wasn’t much left of the old building, the family were living in one end and trying to stop the whole place from collapsing on them. When Count Vortaxis took over he made the tower, there, the Count’s residence.” He waved at the huge, round tower in the centre. “It’s a Martello tower, they used to light fires on the top of it to send a warning of danger.”</p><p>“In those days it’d be burning all the time.” Verity was still recovering from her first Glamis sighting.</p><p>“It’s the largest of its kind ever built. Much wider, and taller, than was necessary, they think it was used for other activities as well.”</p><p>“Dance lessons? Birthday parties? Human sacrifice?”</p><p>“Possibly for the District Council of that time. The lowest floor is a huge meeting room, with a few floors above that. After a while they added wings to the tower – one East towards the cliff, the other on the opposite side. Then they ran those two longer buildings off to the right from the ends of the wings, and one across the ends joining them, making a really long courtyard. It was called the Long Courtyard.”</p><p>“Of course it was. And they needed towers at each corner, and a few more along each side, because…?”</p><p>“I think they must have liked towers.”</p><p>They looked at the variety of square and round towers  bulging from the buildings. The wings seemed to be mostly about four storeys tall, the towers were higher. Some had flat roofs and battlements, some had pointed cones on top. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to it.</p><p>“And then they ran a building across the middle, connecting the two long sides. It’s a colonnade, the ground floor is open with just columns along each side. There’s two floors of rooms above that.”</p><p>“So just a small one, then.”</p><p>“After that they added some stables and coach houses, and other outbuildings, to the right, then joined them up to make two more courtyards.”</p><p>Maxim nodded, “They use one for horses and one for groundcars and lightflyers, now.”</p><p>“And in front of those outhouses, maybe to screen them a bit, is the maze.”</p><p>“I thought that was … it looks like a giant spider crouching in there.”</p><p>“It’s a hedge maze. It’s a little overgrown right now.”</p><p>“I think it just ate a groundcar.”</p><p>“It just needs a bit of a trim. Mazes used to be very popular.”</p><p>“Oh right, because wandering around lost in that pile isn’t enough, they wanted to wander around lost outdoors, surrounded by hedges, too?”</p><p>“It was very fashionable on big estates. So of course they had to have one. It has a Folly in the middle.”</p><p>“The whole place is a folly. It’s like they were having a ‘how can I make this place even worse’ contest.”</p><p>“Maybe each Count added something to please his wife.”</p><p>“Maybe each Count added a tower to keep her in.”</p><p>Yvgeny shook his head and ploughed on, “And then they ran some wings off to the left of the large tower, and put another building across the ends, to make a shorter courtyard – than the other side, anyway. It’s called the Small Courtyard. It’s a garden.”</p><p>“Small? It’s big enough for a full sports field!  And a garden usually has live plants in it.”  Verity was trying to make sense of it all.</p><p>“It has a fish pond, too. Or it did, anyway. That might need some refurbishing.”</p><p>“Or we could just look for fish that live only in mud.”</p><p>Yvgeny ignored her and continued his lecture, “And then they added some more wings to make another rectangular courtyard on the left of that, and ran another building down the middle, but this time it runs lengthwise, and it’s really tall. Very pointy roof, too. That made the  Narrow Courtyards. And I like the spires. And then they ran a few smaller buildings from one place to another inside the Narrow courtyards. And there’s a few outbuildings on that end, too – that side is a bit more complicated.”</p><p>“Yes, it is. But all those towers help so much, especially the different shapes. There’s such a mixture of round and square towers – and is that one hexagonal? And all different heights. And the great variety of peaked and flat roofed bits. I like it that there’s so many different shapes and sizes of windows, often in the same building. Plus arrow slits, battlements, pillars, and … and things I don’t even know the names for. I’m sure they invented some new styles just for this building. And there’s at least three main entrances, too.”</p><p>“Yes, two on the right, but only one on the left. They weren’t into symmetry.”</p><p>“How shameful.  And I haven’t seen a single fountain yet – really, the place is hardly worth keeping.”</p><p>“They don’t seem to have fountains. Maybe they don’t think it’s necessary when you can hear the sea.”</p><p>“Yes, so close you can hear the sea… watch ships sinking during a storm…”</p><p>“I don’t think ocean-going ships come that close along here.”</p><p>“Well that’s just a huge disappointment. Maybe they use that tower like a fake lighthouse, to lure innocent ships to their doom.”</p><p>“Verity!  It’s not that bad, it’s just very large and there’s a few different styles of architecture.”</p><p>“And it’s nice that there’s so many different heights –sometimes in the one building. And that dull grey stone makes the whole thing look dirty and mean. Thank goodness for all the ivy, it gives a wonderful impression of mould. It’s just amazing the amount of malice one building can project. And all those twisted trees scattered around, that’s just the icing on the cake.”</p><p>Maxim laughed and took over, “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to have to organise it. It’s not that bad. One day there’ll be gardens in the Small Courtyard, we just haven’t had time yet.”</p><p>“And in that huge empty space in front? More gardens?”</p><p>“We’ll have some gardens right along the front of the building, it’ll break things up and add a bit of colour, but apart from that, no. That’s the golf course.”</p><p>“What’s goff?”</p><p>“A game. You play it with sticks and balls.”</p><p>“How big are the teams?”</p><p>“It’s individual, apparently. You have to get the balls into the holes.”</p><p>“Well if they put them closer together you’d save a lot of space.”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s the point.”</p><p>“And look, there’s cows down the hill there, and sheep – what’s to stop them wandering right across the goff field and into the building?”</p><p>“They can’t get to it. There’s a ha-ha around the golf course.”</p><p>“I don’t want to ask. But I will – what the heck is a ha-ha? You’ve just made that up.”</p><p>“No, according to my expert,” he nodded towards Yvgeny, “It’s a ditch with a fence in the bottom. Animals can’t get past it, and it doesn’t block the view.”</p><p>“Anything that blocked the view of that nasty jumble would be a benefit, not a problem. And what’s that mess off to the left?”  She waved at some half-fallen walls and piles of stone to the far left.</p><p>“That’s the old Vorkalinopoulos place. It’s probably beyond repair.”</p><p>“It’s a heap of rocks lying on the ground! You can’t repair a pile! I’ll bet the local kids love to explore it, it’s just the creepy sort of place they’d like.”</p><p>“No. Ludo didn’t allow anyone up here but some servants, and his friends. This whole clifftop area, and all the land around it, was out of bounds to the District residents. I want to open it up again, let the locals use the golf course – maybe we can start a club, or something. And I’ll let them have access to the beaches along here, that’s been forbidden for far too long.” </p><p>“Assuming anyone wants to get close to this monstrosity.”</p><p>“They love it! Anyway, once we brighten it up a bit you won’t know the place.”</p><p>“I don’t WANT to know the place. It looks like it could get up at any moment and launch itself into flight off the cliffs. Maxim, it’s just too big, it’s a monstrosity.”</p><p>“Well, you don’t have to worry,” Maxim leaned back and smiled, “I’m getting rid of half of it.”</p><p>Yvgeny gasped in horror, “You’re knocking it down? But think of the history there!”</p><p>“I’m thinking of the upkeep. But no, I’m not knocking it down. I’m keeping the large tower and everything to the right as the Vortaxis country seat, that’s the most regular and impressive part. But the bits on the left… well, part of it is going to be my engineering institute.”</p><p>“A… what?” Verity was trying to take it all in.  </p><p>“Properly recognised, giving university degrees. Some Districts have a School of Medicine, or whatever. We’ll have Engineering. We don’t have to have a whole university, at least not yet. We’ll start with a few departments, and it may grow later. I’m hoping to link it to the training school the military are putting in, get a bit of useful crossover. As a matter of fact we have some backing – and funding – from the military already. I spoke to a very helpful man – head of Engineering – Colonel Otto. He put me on to a retired Colonel who used to do Otto’s job. He’s experienced at teaching people what to do, and organising large groups of people and equipment, so he’s the new head of my Engineering school. I think he was getting bored in retirement. He can get us all kinds of equipment from the military, too – he says it’s surplus. I’m not looking too closely.”</p><p>“That sounds… useful.”</p><p>“Oh yes. I want to get some manufacturing up and running, and they might be handy there, too.”</p><p>“Any other brilliant ideas?”</p><p>“Of course. Marine Biology.”  He waved, “We’ve got a whole ocean right beside us. I was chatting with Yvgeny’s Professora. Years ago someone funded a huge building for Marine Biology studies at the university in Vorbarr Sultana. But they’re not conveniently close to an ocean, and it gets difficult – the building is half-empty most of the time, with the majority of the students, and professors, out at sea; beside it, in it or under it. Meanwhile some other departments are terribly overcrowded and complaining bitterly. So I offered to set up a Marine Biology department here. The university is so pleased to get rid of them without a nasty fight that it’s giving me everything – all the resources, ongoing research data and equipment, and the lecturers and students too – most of them are delighted to come, accommodation is far cheaper here, and we have an ocean! Plus we’re getting the trust fund that pays for most of it. They’re even paying for the move. They get a huge empty building that’ll keep the other departments happy, at very little cost. Win-win.”</p><p>“How do they get to the ocean? Glamis is on a cliff.”</p><p>“There’s some lift platforms along the cliff. I’m keeping one for the family, allocating one to the university, and the others for public use; two to the far left, and one to the far right. There’s coves all the way along, so we’ll still have a private beach for the family, but the public can finally enjoy some of the seaside along here, too. The lift platforms had to be overhauled – I had them checked out, they’re old, but they’re safe and serviceable.”</p><p>“And you organised all this over the last few weeks?”</p><p>“Well I wasn’t playing vidgames all day, you know. I was working!”</p><p>“Ok, fine and devious brother. Anything else?”</p><p>“Well, the next bit isn’t going so well. I want a School of Sciences, too. But it’s taking time to find the right people – there’s plenty of disgruntled graduates who think that nobody realises how smart they are, but most of them are pretty useless, or totally crazed. I want sane and smart – not so easy. I’m working on that, and the university is helping – part of the payoff for taking Marine Biology off their hands.”</p><p>“But you wanted it!”</p><p>“Well, yes, but they don’t have to know that. They think I’m doing them a favour.”</p><p>“You’re good at deals.”</p><p>“If you’ve ever been stuck on a distant world, with a broken-down ship, and nobody who recognises your money – you learn to make deals. Anyway, I’ve got a Vice-Chancellor to run it all, she used to run the entire school system in this District, and considering how little Ludo gave her to do it with, she worked wonders.”</p><p>“I suppose you’re the Chancellor?”</p><p>“Yep. My job was to start it. After that it’s her job. The Marine Biology will be running as soon as they move and settle in, they’re fine. I’m hoping for at least some of the Engineering to start after the summer. The sciences… not sure.”</p><p>“It’ll bring a lot of jobs to the District.”</p><p>“And a lot of people wanting to rent rooms or apartments, too.”</p><p>“And students from this District…?”</p><p>“They’ll get a fifty percent discount on fees. Maybe some scholarships, too. I’ll announce it all next time I’m in New Corinth – I couldn’t tell them everything at once, it was too much.”</p><p>“And Glamis is now – partly – a university. Well, that’ll liven it up.”</p><p>“I’ve had teams checking it all – most of the left-hand side was being used as offices, meeting rooms and staff accommodation, or just plain empty. They cleared out anything that looked valuable, but it was mostly utilitarian. Marine Biology has the side along the cliff, looking out at their precious ocean. The engineering is at the end, near that scatter of useful outbuildings. Sciences are going to be in the buildings along the front, facing this way. And Admin will be in the centre. So it’s ready, the engineers and marine biologists have started moving in. Admin is just about fully set up and running, processing applications for jobs and enrolments. The Glamis house staff are delighted, it’s so much less to look after.”</p><p>“Oh look – that’s a flagpole on top of the tower. On top of all the towers. And they’re putting up…”</p><p>“My banners. The Count is in residence.”</p><p>They watched the myriad of flags and banners snap open and  flutter in the breeze. </p><p>The lightflyer swooped down and landed gently right in front of one of the main entrances.</p><p>“Now, come and look at the inside!”</p><p>“I can’t imagine how bad it is. I don’t think I want to know.”</p><p>“Actually, it’s not as bad as you’d expect. The Old Count, bless the man for being an absolute genius, put teams over the whole place not long before he died, bringing it all up to a good state; all the roof repairs were done, power and plumbing done to the best standards of the time – and he had a team of tame engineering geniuses, that’s how he had the lift tubes and transparent roof tiles made. He was planning on some new industries for the District, but didn’t have the chance to start them off. But they did wonders in this building, considering that it was pretty much the size of a small town. The facilities are old, but they all work just fine.”</p><p>“You should erect a statue of him.”</p><p>“I intend to. When Ludo took over, the cleaning crews were cut back, but the staff did their best. I think some of the business managers fiddled the books a bit to keep paying cleaning and repairs staff in the building – Ludo didn’t have any idea what was going on here half the time. The business manager has …subtly… indicated to me that those measures will no longer be necessary.”</p><p>“You mean he’s promised not to embezzle any more money?”</p><p>“I don’t know if it was embezzlement as such, since the money went to the Count’s property. It was just a redirection. Anyway, Madam de Lacey ran some full-strength cleaning teams through the place, they did a great job, and I think we’ve got them all back now. Some of them sort of vanished into the bowels of the place for a while. But at least it’s all nice and clean, and minor repairs are up to date.”</p><p>“Dungeons. It has dungeons for sure.”</p><p>“Yes, we didn’t clean them. I don’t really want to know what’s down there.”</p><p>“How lovely. We should take the guests on special tours. Or are you saving it for the honeymoon?”</p><p>“I’ll forget you said that. Now behave, and come and appreciate the glories of this jumbled pile. Some bits of it are actually very attractive; there’s lovely panelling, beautiful furniture, a whole gallery of ancestors. In parts, anyway. So, onward and upward!  Come and explore our heritage!”</p><p> </p><p>((((((((((((((((((((O)))))))))))))))))))))))</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>If you want to build a mental picture, think of Windsor Castle, cross it with Ghormenghast, double the size, all in dull mottled grey stone. That’s a good start.</p>
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<a name="section0042"><h2>42. The Armsman Cometh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things are gearing up now. Ohhh and think of all those kilts!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Twelve men stood, proud and tall, in their uniform jackets and crisply pleated kilts. Twelve groups of family and friends blinked back proud tears, watching as each man knelt to his Count and said the words that bound their lives together. </p><p>Maxim had served with men before, he’d commanded men before – but this was the first time he’d had people sworn solely to him, not just working for a common organisation. These were his men, body and soul. They owned him as much as he owned them. </p><p>It was a solemn moment for all of them.</p><p>Then came the congratulations, tears and laughter, and the food. Ma Kennerli was having the best time of her life, and was convinced that her food was the star of the show, today and for the rest of the wedding season. Maxim was beginning to realise that food, in a dizzying array of different styles, was going to be a feature of just about everything he did in future. He’d been swimming in the pool at Vortaxis House a few times, and he’d found the gym in the cellars. He needed to work out a regular schedule, and stick to it. Otherwise he’d need new, larger, House uniforms. </p><p>A discreet vidcam operator and a reporter from the local station recorded the oath-taking. Maxim was going to be heading the local news reports for the next week, with a few quick updates on the nationals if it was a slow news day. Well, the publicity would be handy – he’d use it to help launch Vortaxis Centre, and maybe it’d rustle up a few more enrolments for his university. </p><p>He circulated, making sure to have a word with each excited and grateful family. Even Kravik had rustled up some delighted relatives; a sister and her two children, and a grandfather standing tall and proud, “It’s not what we expected, my lord, but it’s a great moment for us all. It was a lucky day for him when he was assigned to you.”</p><p>“No, it was my good fortune. I owe him a great deal.”</p><p>Gorlov’s grandfather was there, beaming with delight. “My lord Count, when you have time I’d be happy to show you the secrets of Glamis. There’s so many hiding places and hidden passages. You’ll need to know them all.”</p><p>Maxim was a bit daunted at the thought, but then he smiled, “Perhaps old Ludo hid some nice surprises down here, too. The university could do with a bit of a cash infusion.  Thank you.”  </p><p>And he’d make sure that the old man received a finder’s fee too, although the glory and recognition was the real prize for the old armsman. </p><p>The armsmen were already a good team, but now there was a sense of satisfaction, of greater unity and strength. There was security now, and direction. They treasured their respected status in the District, and had already swung into their roles; they’d been doing the job, but having the proper status seemed to make it all matter that little bit more.</p><p>After the celebrations wound down some more lightflyers arrived, carrying the consortium members ready for their tour of the mines and refineries the next day. Count Vorsmythe was family now, as Anastasia’s grandfather. Lord Auditor Vann Vorgustafson, a great philanthropist as well as businessman and industrialist, was also making a sizable donation from his charitable foundation to the new university. He was supposed to be retired, but he’d been tempted by the ideas of the new Count - and Maxim had a sneaking suspicion that the auditor may have been asked, or at least hinted, towards him by the Emperor – keeping an eye on the new man. Lord Mark Vorkosigan was interested in the science institute, as well as business opportunities in the District, as was Tabor Kalamakis. Leonidas Brazhensky had a background in science, and Maxim was hoping he still had some good contacts who might be suitable for his university.  He was perfecting his skills at networking, and using whatever resources he could.  </p><p>Maxim spent the afternoon touring the new university facility with his guests – it might encourage more help from them. </p><p>The marine biologists were already measuring up and making plans, ‘….the big tanks can go along here…. We’ll need to make that conference room into a lecture room… we can re-use a lot of these chairs… Oh good – a kitchen – we’ll keep that, it’ll be handy for dissections, and snacks…’  They assured him they’d be moved in and ready well before the end of summer, and fully up and running for the new academic year.</p><p>“Oh, and the lift-platforms have passed inspection, so you can use the one I’ve had marked off for you. There’s small coves all along these cliffs; that platform just out there goes down to a nice little cove with a small dock, you can tie up a few boats there if you want and that cove will be for your use only. Most of the other coves along here are netted to allow safe swimming but that one’s open. It’s all yours.”</p><p>He thought they were going to cry with delight. </p><p>The retired colonel who was going to head up his Engineering Department was also checking things out, and measuring up. He had a gleam in his eye that Maxim recognised; this was a man who revelled in a challenge. He had a team of obviously ex-servicemen who were repurposing a few rooms, making alterations and moving furniture with brisk efficiency. They’d also taken over the rather ramshackle collection of outbuildings at the far end of the main building. Large equipment was being moved in, Maxim just hoped that nothing was likely to explode. </p><p>“I’m getting some enrolments in already, Count.  There’s a lot of men who’ve done their ten, or twenty, and who want to get a proper qualification to help them to a better job. And there’s some young ones just out of school who didn’t apply in time to other places, or who took a few years off and now want to get back in. The numbers are very pleasing; we’ll be able to start quite a few classes after the summer, and then we’ll build up to a full enrolment in a year or two. We may also have some students from the new military base; I’ve been talking with the new base commander, we served together. We’ve been discussing running some special refresher courses for some of the men doing certain courses. Could be over there, or here, but it’ll be on the books anyway.”</p><p>Two out of three, done and dusted. Hopefully his networking would turn up some scientists soon. Maxim dropped a few hopeful hints to his special guests.</p><p>The Admin section, in the centre of the courtyard, was well set up, and running smoothly already. The new Vice-Chancellor was a small, solid little woman, who seemed to bounce as she walked, and projected an air of calm control. She was obviously relishing her new job.</p><p>“All up and running, my lord. We’ve set up the systems for enrolments, and we’re processing all the employment paperwork for the staff, as well as dealing with enquiries for courses, and job applications.  We’ve hired locally for office staff, cleaners, security people, kitchen hands for the staff canteen, and lab assistants. Groundsmen, too, to keep the place tidy. We’re setting up the headquarters of a library and study facility on one floor of this building, there’s plenty of space. Most of them prefer commlink access of course, but there’s always some students who like to set up group study sessions, so we can cater for that. And there may be some source documents that they want to study, instead of copies. We also have some people setting up a café on the ground floor of this building – it’s the perfect spot for it. The students, and staff, will need somewhere for lunch, or a snack and a cup of tea or coffee. We’ve been building up a list of possible accommodation, too, in case people need help finding somewhere And there’s been a few nibbles of interest from people who are looking for a job on staff – mostly Engineering, but here are a few for the Sciences.”  </p><p>The woman was obviously having a wonderful time, and dealing with everything with cool efficiency. Maxim thanked and congratulated her, and left her in her little kingdom.</p><p>Vorgustafson turned to Maxim, “What other departments do you plan to add?”</p><p>“To be honest, nothing for a while, I want to get these sections up and running properly first. But I’d like to add agriculture, and a business/accounting school. Mathematics might fit in with that, too. There’s been some hints about philosophy, of all things, but the Greekie element seems keen. And then maybe History – my brother would like that. And Literature. Music, possibly. It’ll just grow slowly over time. One day, if it all works out, we’ll extend over the old Vorkalinopoulos site, and run some more buildings out that way.”</p><p>The Auditor nodded “It’s a huge job, the work of a lifetime. But well worth it. It’s good to see that it was one of your priorities.”</p><p>Maxim smiled wryly, “I seem to have a dozen or more priorities on my list, but I’ll get to them all, as soon as. This was actually one of the easier ones; once I kicked it off I just found some excellent people and then got out of their way.”</p><p>“Always a good way to operate.” Vorgustafson smiled; this was exactly the way Gregor ran his Auditors, too. “And the locals will enjoy the extra income from renting out accommodation. Are you going to benefit from that? A Dower House, perhaps?”</p><p>“There’s no Dower House here, it’s about the only thing they missed. I think they just added a tower for each Dowager Countess. But there’s some villages scattered around here, and the southern suburbs of New Corinth are close enough – and they’ve never benefited much from the holiday lets, they’re too far from available beaches.”</p><p>“You’re taking a good approach to this; spreading the benefits around, getting that money to the people by letting them earn it. It builds pride and self-reliance.”</p><p>“I’m learning as I go along. These people are worth the effort.”</p><p>It was a quiet meal that night, and everyone retired to their rooms, to work or sleep, in good time. Maxim felt like he had a countdown running in his head.</p><p>“You’ve had three more armsman applications already,” Verity was checking the mail listings over breakfast, “You’ll have a full score soon.”</p><p>“Tell them I’m not taking any more for a month. Then we’ll winnow the list and make our choices.  I want to give these men a chance to get settled in and develop a routine, and I’ll get input from Gorlov, Barlow and Letokis, as the most senior and experienced men. They’ll be able to advise me on who I need. We might take them in two groups, to allow the newcomers to fit in better.”</p><p>“Have fun at the mines today.”</p><p>‘Fun’ and ‘mines’ don’t usually go together. He wouldn’t call it a fun day, but it was busy, and very productive. </p><p>“As we fly over, gentlemen, you’ll see that the coast and the central part of the District are well-terraformed. The southern region is mostly mines, heavy industry and manufacturing. It’s not terraformed properly, it’s a mixture of native and introduced, and not much of either. The northern region is in the process of being terraformed, but that has been very slow.”  Mostly because Ludo couldn’t care less. “The new base is taking up a great deal of that area, so it’ll be up to them how and if it’s terraformed. There’s some marginal farmland around there, mostly fallen into disuse and back into Countly control. That’s one of the items on my ‘to do’ list.”</p><p>The list was very long. Maxim sighed at the thought of it. </p><p>As they neared the southern sector, Maxim dropped lower to study some empty factories, “They’ll be handy for the manufacturing I want to get going, we’re not starting totally from scratch.”</p><p>“What are you going to make?”</p><p>“Well, for a start, those large lift shafts, and the transparent roof tiles. Turns out the Old Count put a thinktank together when new Nexus items started filtering in. They tinkered with a lift shaft or two, and came up with a way to change the shape; everyone else knew it couldn’t be done so they didn’t try too hard. He made a few prototypes – you saw some of them at Vortaxis House – but other events intervened and he never got round to selling them. Same with the roof tiles. But he did put perpetual patents on them, and those patents came down to me, so I’m going to run off a few and see if there’s some interest. Busy public buildings would probably want the lift tubes.”</p><p>“Without a doubt. You’ll need to let people know they’re available.” Vorgustafson was taking a professional interest in the way the new Count was rebuilding his District.</p><p>“Advertising. More interviews. Eck. Anyway, there’s a few other patents that look interesting, so we may have a few healthy product lines.”</p><p>“You’re making some very positive changes. Impressive.”</p><p>Maxim shrugged, “I have good people helping me. And the Old Count – Ludo’s father – was an amazing man. The more I find out about him, about the arrangements he set in place, the more I respect him.”</p><p>Vorsmythe shook his head, “I think perhaps he was trying to Ludo-proof as much of the District as possible, or at least preserve what he could for the Count who would follow Ludo. Bad as things are, they could have been a lot worse. Look at Vorfolse District – they say Lord Vorfolse is going crazy trying to repair the damages to the District done by his father, but he’s fighting a losing battle at the moment.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not Vorfolse’s favourite person. That twenty-year sweetheart deal he had for our ore ends in a few weeks, and he’s not happy that I won’t renew. Plus I’m starting up our own refineries, in direct competition with his.  The betrothal… didn’t help. They didn’t realise Anastasia was back from Komarr until he saw her in the Council of Counts. He’s still telling me that his grandson has a claim on her – I think that’s just out of spite. I haven’t had much contact with the Heir, he seems reasonable under the circumstances. The grandson… no comment.”</p><p>“You just marry my grand-daughter and keep her safe.”</p><p>“I will, sir.”</p><p>More and more, Maxim was realising just how much the Old Count had done; the District had suffered from decades of neglect, underfunding and a steady financial drain, but there were a surprising number of foundations, trusts, and perpetual funds, to try to safeguard as much as possible. The District  hadn’t made much progress under Ludo, but it hadn’t fallen backwards too much either. There had just been a steady, grinding lack of drive until, after decades, everything was threadbare. Ludo either couldn’t touch all the funds; didn’t even know about them; or, like most of the Vorbarr Sultana investments, simply didn’t care. Perhaps when he realised how helpless he was to destroy the District he hated, he’d just ignored his father’s deliberate framework of protection. For hyper-sensitive Ludo, it may have been the last straw – one final proof that his father saw him as simply not quite good enough. </p><p>But that was then, this was now. Ludo was gone, and Maxim was grateful for any help the Old Count had left for him. </p><p>While his partners toured one of the mines Maxim was roped in to do an impromptu interview with the local media again, they were making the most of the access to their Count, and the planetwide interest. This was another of those hidden networks, Maxim realised; for once the regional media was at the centre of something good, and their profile was rising fast because of it. Maxim sighed, smiled, and decided what news he’d release next. </p><p>Maxim confirmed that the refinery was re-opening, and then took the chance to give the details about his new university, and the jobs it would bring. Burbles of joy from the interviewer, who now had a brilliant lead story for that night’s news. Hopefully it would make the nationals, and bring in a few more enrolments.</p><p>Then Maxim rounded up all of his associates and they swung across the District to the northern corner. They flew over good farming land, at least this was doing well. The northern region, though, was far less fertile. “They picked a good place for the base, there’s not much else you could do with this land.”  </p><p>His guests had nothing much to do with the base, but they all enjoyed seeing the preparations – this was Barrayar, after all, and anything military was a popular show. It was a good way to entertain them for a while.</p>
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<a name="section0043"><h2>43. I'm getting married in the morning...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Every place has its own wedding traditions...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Glamis was spread out in front of them.  Laisa stared at it in silence for a moment. </p><p>“We’re here at last!” Anastasia smiled, “I’ve missed this place so much!”</p><p>“It’s… er… memorable.”</p><p>“It’s horrible, but for a child it’s fantastic – hide and seek goes on for days. In bad weather you can explore whole parts of the building you’ve never seen before. And you can always escape to some private nook of your own.”</p><p>“I thought the Residence was bad.”</p><p>Anastasia giggled, “The Residence is beautiful, and organised, and it’s constructed with logic. You don’t have to go downstairs, walk the length of a wing, then go upstairs again, to get to a room that’s next door to where you started.”</p><p>“I’d never realised that was something to be grateful for.”</p><p>As Second, Laisa was travelling to Glamis with Anastasia the night before the wedding. Gregor was coming down the next day; the Imperial couple would return to Vorbarr Sultana after the wedding, and the celebrations, were over. Anastasia was still amazed and grateful that they were both able to find the time. </p><p>Due to a collective hissy-fit by ImpSec, only the wedding party, family members and some other special guests were staying in Glamis, the rest were in assorted holiday rentals around New Corinth. The night before the wedding they had an intimate family dinner for a mere sixty people. Anastasia and Maxim were at opposite ends of a long table. Eye contact was just about all the contact they were allowed to have; Maxim was starting to hate the word ‘tradition’. Yes, he’d agreed to a traditional wedding, but surely he could have just a bit of time with his betrothed?</p><p>Apparently, no. And the little baggage knew what he was thinking, and laughed at him, flirting with her eyes.  </p><p>Then, after a night of not sleeping, it was The Day.</p><p>Yvgeny came to help, or impede, as Maxim woke to face the best, and most nerve-wracking, day of his life. </p><p>He’d never been married before so he wasn’t sure of all the forms and customs, but still, some of Kravik’s behaviour seemed odd. “Here’s your gown, sir.” He greeted Maxim as he dried off from his bath, “Nice dark green silk. Very suitable.”</p><p>“Kravik, I don’t need a dressing gown to go from the bathroom to my bedroom. There’s only a doorway between them.”</p><p>“You need the gown, sir. It’s traditional.”</p><p> </p><p>Laisa and Verity were helping Anastasia, or offering advice while Sophie helped her get ready, “Brush your hair, and have it nice and shiny. It’s a pity it’s not just a bit longer.”</p><p>“Yes, waist length is no help, really.”</p><p>Laisa was a bit wide-eyed, “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”</p><p>Verity held up a dark green silk dressing-gown, “Well… um… this is beautifully made.”</p><p>Anastasia sighed, “I didn’t expect that we’d do this, but Maxim said traditional. At least the old traditions have been updated, a little. And … well… most people here do it. People will be happy that we’ve followed tradition, just like them.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxim belted the gown, “Fine, I’m washed, depilated and covered in green silk. Time to get dressed.”</p><p>“This way, my lord.” Kravik ushered him towards the door to the corridor.</p><p>“What? Kravik, if this is some surprise party or something, I’m not in the mood and we don’t have all that much time.”</p><p>“Standard procedure in the District, sir. You did want tradition.”</p><p>“Fine, just hurry up, or I won’t have time to get dressed.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Maxim,” Yvgeny smiled, “They’ll wait for you. They have to.”</p><p> </p><p>Laisa frowned, “Are you sure you know the way? We don’t want to get lost.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I know the way. Verity, the media…?”</p><p>“Are firmly locked away. And we actually have a damper field running, just a small one – I borrowed something from that nice ImpSec major. No vids, no pix. Guaranteed.”</p><p>“Good. This will live in memory ONLY.”</p><p> </p><p>“Kravik, where the hell are we?”</p><p>“The balcony, sir.”</p><p>“What balcony?”</p><p>Yvgeny gestured at a door, “The Revelation balcony is on the other side. Smaller homes just use an upper-floor window, or even the roof. But larger houses generally have a proper balcony, or they build a temporary one for the occasion. Glamis, of course, has a permanent structure.”</p><p>“Revelation balcony? What is that?”</p><p>“It’s for tradition, my lord. Just the way you wanted. Now we need to get you ready.”</p><p>“Ready for what? I don’t – what is this!”</p><p>“You said a traditional wedding, sir. Which means the Revelation.”</p><p>“What the heck is that?”</p><p>Yvgeny explained earnestly, “It’s the moment when the bride and groom show – reveal – that they have no mutations, that there’s nothing wrong with them. The guests get a chance to examine them. This is one of the few Districts that still do this, it’s a very old custom. It’s changed a bit from the past, though;  these days it’s done at a bit of a distance, you don’t have to walk through the middle of the guests any more. Just go out on the balcony, and do one lap and then few slow spins. Anastasia will be doing it too.”</p><p>“And what does that prove? What does it show?”</p><p>“Everything. Now, it’s time to take the robe off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Last chance to say no,” Laisa was already embarrassed, “I turned this down, for my wedding.”</p><p>“Well of course you did, you had a whole empire watching you! I only have a few hundred guests.”</p><p>“Poor Gregor, he’s going to die with embarrassment.”</p><p>“I don’t have a lot of sympathy for the GUESTS right now, thank you.”</p><p>Verity laughed, “I wonder when Maxim will realise just what he agreed to?”</p><p> </p><p>“WHAT THE HELL…!!!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, he just found out. Now, are you ready?”</p><p>“I’m brave. I can do this. I’m clean and all the right things have been done to the right bits.”</p><p>Laisa nodded, “Don’t make eye contact. It’s only a few minutes, then we’ll have time to get you dressed and lovely while the guests have a few drinks and snacks, and recover.”</p><p>Anastasia nodded and took a deep breath, then started to giggle, “I never imagined I’d do this – it’s actually a bit… sort of… well, exciting, really. I mean, how many people can say that they’ve done this!  And let’s face it, I’ll never be embarrassed by anything else ever again.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxim had finished threatening Kravik and Yvgeny with death. They waited patiently until he’d let off enough steam.</p><p>“But Maxim, you agreed to this. You said – ” </p><p>“Stop telling me what I said!”</p><p>“My lord, she’s going to be out there any second. Will you let her do this alone?”</p><p>“What? Anastasia – no, no way is she – stop her!”</p><p>Both men waited in silence.</p><p>“Oh dammit. Fine. What the hell. What do I do?”</p><p>“Just do one slow lap of the chamber, sir, and then turn around a few times. It’s to prove you’re fit and healthy.”</p><p>“And insane. Fine. But there are no vidcams, right?”</p><p>“Not for this. Guaranteed. Then we go and get you dressed properly, and you get married!”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“Yes sir. Your robe, sir?”</p><p> </p><p> The guests were waiting, with confusion, trepidation, embarrassment or glee, or all of them at once, in the ground-floor chamber of the large tower. The ceiling was high above them, and halfway up the walls a narrow balcony ran right around the room. There were two doors, one each side of the tower, connecting to the wings that had been added. </p><p>The nervous chatter stopped as the doors on each side of the chamber opened. The guests craned their necks, looking up to see…</p><p>Anastasia stepped forward on one side, Maxim on the other. Both of them stood straight and tall, hands at their sides, eyes looking ahead. The balcony rail was barely knee height, so it was no use at all, or no impediment, depending on how you looked at things.</p><p>And they looked. </p><p>Anastasia and Maxim stepped forward, facing each other across the chamber, nodded to each other,  then slowly each of them turned right and circled the room, keeping opposite to each other as they walked along the balcony. </p><p>Some people looked down, or away. Some stared. There were more than three hundred guests down below, but the chamber was silent. And then there was a low murmuring, a few nervous laughs, even – from some of the older guests – some satisfied nods at this respect for old traditions. </p><p>Maxim was watching Anastasia. Part way around she hesitated for a moment, then she seemed to relax, with a slow smile. She kept going, walking smoothly. The happy couple walked right around, and then stopped when they reached their own doors, did few slow spins, and faced the crowd again. </p><p>Laisa stepped forward, “Are they fair and free of stain?”</p><p>“Yes!”  Dozens of voices answered back.</p><p>Yvgeny stepped out, “Are they fit and healthy?”</p><p>“Yes!”  More voices now, the crowd were getting into the swing of things.</p><p>Laisa and Yvgeny spoke together, “Can they marry?”</p><p>“YES!”  Every voice was raised in a joyous shout, and laughter to relieve the tension.</p><p>The Seconds ushered their charges back through their respective doors, green silk gowns were firmly belted back in place, and bride and groom rushed off to get dressed for the wedding, “Not that there’s any point in getting dressed now,” grumbled Maxim. </p><p>Kravik stepped out of range and smiled, “Tradition, my lord.”</p>
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<a name="section0044"><h2>44. I Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finally, the wedding. And everyone's fully clothed!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim always maintained that the wedding was an anti-climax. After seeing him naked, nothing else was nearly as exciting. Once he’d recovered from the shock, he was more than a little self-satisfied about the Revelation. </p><p>He was, eventually, dressed in his most formal, crisp and heavily-decorated House uniform. Anastasia was in a Barrayaran-style gown that had just a touch of Nexus edge to it. It was in swirling shades of green, from pale new-leaf green to the deepest, Hunter Green. She’d avoided green before, out of tact, but now she was flying her flags. </p><p>“You did fine!”  Laisa watched as Sophie quickly braided Anastasia’s hair into an intricate design. </p><p>“I feel – I feel wonderful!  I feel so strong – after this, any time something is awkward, or embarrassing, or difficult, I’ll just remember that I did this, in front of all those people, and it’ll make me brave!”</p><p>Laisa was in an elegant Komarran outfit, in a pale blue-green that made her eyes glow like jewels. Verity was in shades of dark blue ‘for contrast’. </p><p>There were three concentric groat circles in one end of the Long Courtyard. One by one the family representatives took their places on the inner circle. Count Vorsmythe wore his formal House uniform, Countess Vorsmythe was in wine-red. Olga wore a dark green gown with startling silver swirls across it, looking poised and artistic. Rodan surprised them by wearing a cadet uniform like Yvgeny’s, with kilt and all; ‘Family solidarity’. </p><p>All in all, despite being fully dressed, the bridal party were very impressive. </p><p>The Emperor and Empress weren’t present, they were Count and Countess Vorbarra for the duration. It made things just a little simpler, for everyone except ImpSec, of course. Count Vorbarra was on the second circle with the family and some close friends. </p><p>The overflow and some local dignitaries were on the third and fourth circles. Armsmen took station around them. </p><p>Yvgeny, wearing his House cadet uniform, ushered Maxim into the Circle.</p><p>Finally Verity led Laisa and Anastasia to their places. The Seconds poured the last of the groats, the Circle was sealed, and the ceremony began. </p><p>Maxim could barely speak at first, it all suddenly seemed so unreal. His life was changing so fast, so many people were sworn to him, or depending on him, joining their lives with his, moulding him into something new and different. But… it was good. He could do this. He could be this person, and do it well. He could give this District a better chance – be more like the Old Count than poor deluded Ludo. </p><p>He smiled at Anastasia, his wife. His amazing wife. The woman who’d chosen him. They could do this, together. </p><p>Verity led them through the words. Their voices were strong and confident. They looked into each other’s eyes as they repeated the words and made their oaths. This was the perfect moment, that sunshine, happy moment that defines a life.</p><p>And then the Seconds broke the circle, and there was more hugging and kissing. Finally the armsmen formed up in two lines, standing to attention as their Count and Countess passed through to go in to the main rooms set up for the wedding breakfast. </p><p>“VORTAXIS! VORTAXIS! VORTAXIS!”</p><p>And it was done. </p><p>The guests followed them to the banquet. Speeches were kept to a minimum.</p><p>And after the food, the dancing. </p><p>The guests were the usual Vortaxis mixture of High Vor, family, old friends, new contacts who were becoming friends, a scattering of Auditors... Also some District notables: the mayor of New Corinth, the business manager, the new Vice Chancellor from the university, plus the heads of the Engineering and Marine Biology departments. Plus wives and husbands. And a scattering of others. People were getting used to the wide range of Vortaxis contacts, and odd friendships were starting up. Even more usefully, some business connections were being made. Society needs to be churned up now and then.</p><p>The food was amazing – Ma Kennerli and the Culinary Institute excelled themselves. There was every delicacy imaginable – not only Greekie and Scotchiss foods of the District, but French, Russian and even English. A small table to one side even offered vat meat, for those who had less traditional tastes. </p><p>The drinks flowed freely; red and some white wine from the District, Retsina for the brave, Ouzo as well and Whisky that was smooth and smoky. Plus various teas and coffees for anyone who wanted to remember it all later.</p><p>The bagpipes enlivened the occasion, there was other (‘normal’ according to Maxim) music, and the dancing went on for hours. </p><p>Each of the female staff received a small silver brooch of the thistle and myrtle, to commemorate the day. The armsmen and other male staff received a silver thistle and myrtle kilt pin. </p><p>Throughout the District the media carried the wedding coverage, and even some of the celebration afterwards. The Common in New Corinth, and a few of the suburbs, had huge holoscreens set up. The towns, and most of the villages, had a large holoscreen or at least a large old vid-screen – older technology, but still limping along in the District, and good enough to show the Wedding to all of the Count’s subjects. Smaller or more isolated villages had domestic-sized screens, but it was still enough to link them to the important events. In every settlement there were large tables set up, with banquets and feasting, dancing and laughter, as the audiences joined in with the fun. </p><p>The large media companies would each show the edited highlights in the nightly news coverage, with laughing hints about the scandalous old tradition that the couple had followed, sadly there were no vids of that to show. There was plenty of interest in the now-famous, or at least notorious Vortaxis clan, and enough famous faces caught by the cameras to make it well worth while to give the wedding a whole segment, or even more, in precious prime time.</p><p>Maxim and Anastasia danced, caring about nothing but their joy in this moment. They danced with each other, with their guests, with each other again. They whirled and spun and laughed. This was the Perfect Day. Whatever the world brought, they had this amazing day. And whatever happened next, they’d face it as a team. They laughed, and danced on.</p><p>And at night, glorious fireworks exploded over Glamis – a wedding gift from Count and Countess Vorbarra. Just for a few moments, Glamis was actually beautiful.</p><p>It was late – or early in the morning – before the happy couple waved goodbye, amidst much laughter and applause, and headed off for the suite of rooms Maxim had organised as their married quarters, with a fine view of the sea. Verity and Olga looked after the guests; farewelled those who were going back to Vorbarr Sultana, and made sure the rest got back to their rooms. Or someone’s room, anyway. </p><p>Maxim ushered Anastasia through the suite – there were flowers, many flowers. Soft colours, dark timber, warm fabrics, fire burning in the grate, the sound of the sea from the windows. It was all a blur to her. </p><p>Maxim watched her drift through the room, “So, my darling, wonderful, amazing, disgraceful love, are there any other traditions I should know about? An audience in the bedroom, perhaps?”</p><p>“No, we didn’t go with that one.”</p><p>“Come here…”</p><p>And it was wonderful. For that long, glorious night-into-day they were completely in harmony, loving and being loved. </p><p>They woke disgracefully late, celebrated their marriage again, and finally ended up sharing a shower. So it was late lunchtime when they appeared, still a little rumpled, smug and sated. </p><p>Many of the guests had gone home, others had taken the chance to go out exploring New Corinth and surrounds, or lie on the beaches, swim in the protected coves, or go horseriding, or even attempt to learn golf. It was only a relatively small group who shared a late lunch – or substantial High Tea, or whatever Ma Kennerli had decided it was. </p><p>The armsmen – real armsmen at last, to their satisfaction – served them, already comfortable in their new livery. Gorlov sailed around the table, dispensing coffee. Barlow followed with tea. Panagiotis and Kuznetzov staggered in with platters laden with, probably, the best of the wedding leftovers. But they were delicious, and everyone was hungry. </p><p>Maxim looked around, “Yesterday was perfect. Thank you all for your efforts, Verity especially. I can’t believe …. We did it!  We had the most amazing wedding in a week, and now we’re married!”  He smiled blissfully at his wife. Wife!  What a lovely word.</p><p>Anastasia nodded, “I second that. We’re going to spend the next few days just being us, and being together without anyone rushing us anywhere or wanting anything.”</p><p>A new couple appeared in the doorway. Count and Countess Vorbarra were still, apparently, in residence. Laisa smiled, “Hello everyone. I know we were supposed to go back yesterday, but it was such a lovely day, and a late night, and it turns out that most of Gregor’s appointments today are with people like Lord Vorkosigan, who are still here, so we thought we might have a tiny holiday of our own. We’ve spent the morning on the beach, sightseeing in New Corinth, and just exploring around Glamis.”</p><p>There was laughter, welcomes, places set, more food arrived, and the distant sound of ImpSec gritting their teeth and digging in. </p><p>Anastasia looked around the table, “Now, everyone, we’re under honeymoon rules. Only do what you want to do. Have a break, have a rest, explore the stately pile, whatever takes your fancy. Yvgeny, you can do a library search if you like. Take an armsman – Gorlov, or Barlow, or Letokis. They’ve had more experience and they might have some ideas.”</p><p>Once everyone had eaten until they could barely move, and then recovered enough to move, the party split up into couples and small groups. </p><p>Olga’s hands were twitching, she needed to get to her art, the inspiration was striking hard. She set herself up by the ocean, loving the gentle inspiration that was there.</p><p>Yvgeny followed Letokis off to a little-used section that ‘has a lot of old papers and volumes in it, I think, sir’ – it was actually most of one floor of a minor wing, that, it turned out, had been used as the archives, storing books and papers from the first Vortaxis onwards. Yvgeny fell into it with cries of bliss. Verity went to spend some time with her children, taking them down to one of the coves to have a paddle and make sand castles. The children were soon chasing the small waves up and down the beach, screaming with laughter. </p><p>Some of the adults also enjoyed the beach, or the shops in New Corinth, or horseriding in the countryside. Somehow the spirit of holiday had settled on most of them, with guests finding that they could spare another day or two to relax before heading back to Vorbarr Sultana.</p><p>Gregor was the Emperor again; he was given a conference room for his meetings, with a small parlour for more relaxed moments, a couple of offices for his secretary and armsmen, and a comfortable sitting-room for anyone waiting their turn.  At least it was a change of venue.</p><p>Laisa had some similar rooms nearby, to spend a few hours sorting out committees and messages before she headed out to the beach again – an amazing experience for a Komarran! </p><p>Maxim and Anastasia were still wedding-high, clinging to each other, having to force themselves to pay attention to all their lingering guests. In a way, this day out of time was almost better than the wedding day; there was no more tension, no frantic worry about getting everything finished in time, no nerves and haste. It was all done and over. This day was all about pure pleasure and relaxation, and everyone seemed to have caught that same languor. </p><p>Late that afternoon the world started to come back. People were, reluctantly, packing. Maxim and Anastasia had a flood of messages from around the District, and beyond, to deal with. The Imperial couple had said their farewells and, swept along by a very relieved ImpSec squadron, headed back to Vorbarr Sultana, a trickle of guests followed in their lightflyers. More of them were ferried to the monorail station to catch the late run back to the city. </p><p>Anastasia opened the seven-zillionth wellwisher message. “Oh!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. An old recipe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maxim looked over at her, “What? What’s worth an Oh?”</p><p>“This message, it’s from Nanny Theodaxos. She looked after me whenever we were down here. She’s sent her best wishes, and she hopes to see me again soon. From what she says, she’s not very well, but she’s so excited about the wedding. Oh, Maxim, I never thought of her – she should have been invited. I didn’t think she’d still be alive. I should have thought, and checked.”</p><p>“Because you had so little else on your mind?”</p><p>“But still… see, she says that maybe when I have time I could drop by, that she watched the wedding and she’s made Singing Hinnies for me – they were my favourite, and she remembered!”</p><p>“What are they?”</p><p>“A sort of scone, with honey. She has a secret family recipe. Oh, I feel so bad that she missed out.”</p><p>“How far away is she?”</p><p>“A village south of here – only about fifteen minutes by lightflyer. She hopes that I’ll be able to have the Singing Hinnies with her. They’re best when they’re fresh out of the oven, she says. Maxim…”</p><p>“You need to go. I’d come with you, but I’m knee-deep in contracts; Mark Vorkosigan has a few new ideas and Vann Vorgustafson wants to get everything finalised by the end of the week.”</p><p>“No, you stay. I’ll take an armsman. We have armsmen!  I have armsmen!  I’ll take one, and drop by to see her. I’ll be about an hour – back in good time for drinks before dinner, with whoever else is still here.”</p><p>“Well, the Vorthyses are still here – the Professora is excavating old documents with Yvgeny, and her husband is talking engineering with Colonel Brezhny over at the new institute. We need to find a name for that, by the way. Start thinking – we’ll have a special ceremony for it.”</p><p>“Most of your – our – family are still here. And my grandparents. Oh, and Lord and Lady Vorkosigan. I think she’s forcing him to relax for a day or so. The Vorbrettans have gone, but most of your old Service buddies are scattered around – I think they’re enjoying the break, too.”</p><p>“I’ll go round them up later. We might…”</p><p>“Drink for a while? Don’t get drunk. I might need you tonight.”</p><p>“Ha, so I’m only good for one thing?”</p><p>“Yes, dear, but you’re very very good at it.”  She laughed, kissed him and hurried out. </p><p>Maxim turned back to his contracts, determined to get them sorted. Finally he keyed in a few codes, and soon he had all of his business partners collected together in one of the small meeting rooms, signing the final version of their agreements. It was smiles all round as they leaned back and relaxed, “Gentlemen, it’s all go. The foundries are ready to fire up, the last ore delivery to Vorfolse District is gone, the ore is ours now. We have customers ready to take three-quarters of our output, at a good and fair price, and we’ll have the District manufacturing arm going in a few weeks to take up the rest.”</p><p>There were congratulations all round.</p><p>Maxim went on “There shouldn’t be any problem using the rest of the refined ore in the District: there’s already quite a bit of interest in our multi-passenger lift tubes, and it turns out I hold the patents to those transparent/opaque roof tiles, I’ve already had requests for them, too. And there’s more patents that I haven’t even looked at yet. This will provide so many much-needed jobs as well as a market for the refinery output.”</p><p>They all smiled in satisfaction. It’s good when you can make money and help people at the same time. </p><p>Gorlov came quietly into the room and hurried over to Maxim, “My lord, there’s been… something odd… an odd transmission.”</p><p>“From what?”</p><p>“It’s… we’re not sure. It’s not in any of the normal patterns. It was just one garbled blast, and then nothing.”</p><p>“Do you know where it was from? Could it be something the engineers are doing?”</p><p>“We’ve sent to ask them, sir. But it was from somewhere south of here, nowhere close.”</p><p>“The Countess is south of here – she’d have landed by now, but maybe they picked something up.”</p><p>“We’ve called Barlow, sir. There’s been no response. But perhaps he’s with her, not with the flyer, and maybe it’s out of range of his wristcom?”</p><p>Maxim was already moving. He noticed that Count Vorsmythe was close behind – worried about his grand-daughter. Vann Vorgustafson came along too, with auditorial curiosity. For some reason Mark Vorkosigan was with them, as well. </p><p>The Glamis security room was crowded but silent – a lot of men who were watching screens, tapping comconsoles, and worrying. Colonel Brezhny and Lord Vorthys were already there, and he noticed Lord Vorkosigan as well, with Pym, his armsman shadow – auditors were as curious as cats, it seemed. </p><p>Brezhny turned to him, “Count, there’s no equipment we have that would send that signal.”</p><p>Maxim watched the screens, “Have you pinpointed it?”</p><p>Panagiotis nodded, “It was about twenty minutes south of here. There’s been no further signals. We can’t raise the Countess’s lightflyer, or Barlow’s comlink. And the lightflyer isn’t pinging it’s loc signal.”</p><p>“Get me a flyer.”</p><p>Vorkosigan stepped forward, “Just a moment, my lord. Let’s get this organised.” He nodded to Maxim, “It’s probably nothing. A malfunction on her flyer, a random emission from some antiquated machinery. Probably nothing at all. But… I have an itch between my shoulder blades. So we’ll just take it seriously, for practice.”</p><p>Maxim was about to snap the intrusive little runt’s head off when he started snapping out orders, “Armsmen, full combat weapons, and five lightflyers – two fast, three full capacity, ready to go in five minutes. Half of you stay by the armoury to help outfit the rest of us. Brezhny, get your men over here and collect all guests in the best defensible position. We’ll communicate on channel 13, I’ll give you the codes, it’s dedicated for auditors. You’re in command here until we get back. Vortaxis, get hold of all your Service friends who are still here, they’re conscripted. Send them to the armoury.”</p><p>He turned to Vorthys, “Georg, take a few of Brezhny’s useful engineers and start working on that signal. Leonidas Brazhensky and Tabor Kalamakis could be helpful, too, they both have backgrounds in related industries. Check on any other air traffic or odd signals, or signal failures, for the last few hours – you know the drill. Keep an eye on the situation here, and you’re our conduit to the Residence. Keep Gregor informed.”</p><p>He turned to Vorgustafson, “Vann, take a few of Brezhny’s spare men and get to New Corinth, then start quietly tearing the place apart. We’ve already checked, there were no outgoing signals from Glamis, so somebody else is monitoring what goes on, and passing it on to…. Someone. There could be a mole somewhere there. Check their comm stations. Make sure it’s not in the government or the Astynomia – that’s their Municipal Guard. Shake the trees and see what falls out.”</p><p>Men started running; in under a minute everything was falling into place. Maxim helped himself to the most lethal weapons he could find in the armoury – and it was a very pleasingly nasty collection indeed. He noticed that Mark Vorkosigan was with them, and was about to tell him to stand down when he saw the look in the man’s eyes. He’d seen that flat cold look before, on combat veterans who were trained for the worst of it. Whatever happened, Mark Vorkosigan wasn’t going to be dead weight. </p><p>Yvgeny joined them in the armoury, “Maxim,  I want to go with you.”</p><p>“You don’t have the training for this.”</p><p>“I want... I want to help. Max, please.”</p><p>“Yv, I need you here.”  Maxim grasped his shoulder, “I need you to stay with Mother, and Verity, and make sure they’re ok. And if – if – if we can’t find her, or if – if it’s worse, if she’s – gone – then I won’t be coming back. I’ll find who did this, but…”  He couldn’t speak for a moment, “Yv, if anything happens to me you’ll have to hold things together until Ivor gets back. You’ll have to tell him, explain, all the things we’ve been trying to do. Explain how the District matters. Make him understand, help him. I need you for that.”</p><p>Yvgeny nodded. They embraced, quickly – each hoping it wasn’t the last time they’d see each other, then Yvgeny hurried out to join the family, and wait.</p><p>Maxim, the two Vorkosigans and Pym took the first, fastest lightflyer, with Andrianakis flying. Gorlov piloted the other one, with three of his fellow armsmen on board. The other armsmen and Maxim’s Service friends filled the three larger, slower vehicles. And they were away.</p><p>Lord Vorkosigan was still giving orders into his commlink. The flyers were designated Vortaxis One through Five. He was, of course, in Vortaxis One. “Vortaxis Two, with One. Three and Four, follow at your best speed. Five, go to the Countess’s original destination, co-ordinates being sent to you now, and gather any useful information there. Check any witnesses.”</p><p>Maxim leaned towards the wristcom, so that it would pick up his voice, “See if she’s had any visitors lately.”</p><p>Lord Mark said nothing, but his eyes were flat and dark, his hands clenched and unclenched continuously. </p><p>“Halfway there, my lord.”  Andrianakis noted. </p><p>“Miles!” Vorkosigan keyed his commlink so that they could all hear Lord Auditor Vorthys, “That signal – we think it was from a lightflyer. Someone jacked the comm unit power pack, and the explosion sent that signal.  We’ve backtracked it, and have exact coordinates now, sending them through.”</p><p>“Crashed… exploded…”  The world was frozen.</p><p>Miles Vorkosigan gripped his arm, “We don’t know. We have no information for sure until we get there. You’ll need to be ready. Focus.”</p><p>Maxim called on the cold professional detachment he’d used in other times, other places. He’d see this through. But when they reached the end, he’d have someone’s blood for this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Taken at speed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not good news</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The two faster lightflyers sped to the coordinates Vorthys had given them, the slower ones falling behind. Andrianakis started to circle the area, quickly zeroing in on a crash site; the remains of a lightflyer and burnt vegetation. He circled again, checking for a trap, or any survivors. </p><p>“Anastasia!  Anastasia, come out now!”  As soon as they landed Maxim was off and running. </p><p>Andrianakis stayed with the flyer, the Vorkosigans and Pym moved carefully through the area, taking it all in. A short distance from the flyer was a pile of rocks, the sort of place a desperate person would make their last stand. </p><p>There was someone behind the rocks. He could see…feet. Legs, sticking out, lying very still. </p><p>Miles Vorkosigan was there beside him. He turned the body over, “Barlow.”</p><p>Maxim froze, “Three days. Three damn days. That’s all he had as my armsman, and – what was it – neural disruptor?”</p><p>Mark nodded, “You can see the tracing of the nerves close to the surface, see there? It was a head shot, no chance of survival.”</p><p>“ANASTASIA!”  Maxim looked around desperately, screaming, “Come out, I’m here, you’re safe!”</p><p>But there was no sign of her.</p><p>Miles examined the crash scene as  flyer Two landed, “This wasn’t a crash. There’s evidence of an explosion, and – there, see that crumpling? That’s from a touch in flight. Someone forced them down, yes. But this – it’s not a crash, it’s a landing. The other damage is from the explosion.”</p><p>Mark nodded, “They were pursued, herded south probably. Couldn’t evade – there had to be at least two of them, probably more -  with jammers; Barlow had no way to get a signal out. So as soon as they were down Barlow jacked the power cells, rigged them to blow – the right kind of explosion in those cells sends out a pulse. Then they took cover behind those rocks, and he held them off as long as he could. He was a good man.”</p><p>“Three days, he had three damn days.”</p><p>Miles gave him a level gaze, “This is what it is to be High Vor, sometimes. People serve us, they die for us. We have to be worthy of that.”</p><p>Maxim took a deep breath, then nodded. “But Anastasia, she doesn’t deserve any of this. Why did someone do this – revenge? Is it to get to me? Force me to do... what? Is she still alive? Oh gods, she could be dead already!”</p><p>Miles took up a stance in front of him, forcing him to pay attention, “If they wanted her dead they wouldn’t have bothered with all this trouble – just knock the flyer out of the air. If they wanted her dead, we’d have her body here. They took her, for a reason. So we will find that reason, and find her. And we’ll get her back, I’m good at that. Now, she needs you. Get a grip – you can grieve, complain and fall to the tension later. Time for duty, Captain!”</p><p>Maxim took a deep breath and reached for his strength, for combat.  “Yes. Kill now, worry later.”</p><p>“Good.” </p><p> A crackle on Vorkosigan’s commlink, then, “My lord – lords – Five here. We’ve checked with the old nanny. She sent no message – we’ve checked her comconsole, it’s an old unit, barely working. There’s no sign of that message, and I’d have found it if it was there. At the time the message was sent she was with the neighbours, celebrating the wedding in front of many witnesses. According to the neighbours there’s been no flyers around here today. But there was some trouble with the comms, they all went dead about three hours ago, fading in again about ten minutes ago. And the old woman has a nephew, he’s been visiting her lately. She’s so pleased, because he’s been away for years working in Vorfolse District, but he came back a month ago and got a job in the Astynomia, that’s what they call the Municipal Guard in New Corinth.”</p><p>“Good work. Let the other Lords Auditor know, then follow our heading. We’re going South, we’ll pay a visit to Vorfolse District.”</p><p>Maxim was stone-cold now, he motioned to Andrianakis, “I’ll pilot this flyer, you take Two. We might need to dance with some friends.”</p><p>As they flew Vorkosigan called up maps of the area and started checking, “The nearest town over the border is Vorfolse Galorian. It’s where they process your ore, or used to. The capital is further south. There’s not much else around, we’ll try the town first.”</p><p>“Company.”  Maxim tracked three dots on his monitor, “Moving fast. Andrianakis, do you have them?”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>“We’ll wait and see what they want to do. Be ready to play.”</p><p>“Unidentified vessel!”  A voice boomed over the comm, “This area is off limits. Leave immediately.”</p><p>“This is Count Maxim Vortaxis, and this is MY DISTRICT. Identify yourself.”</p><p>“You made a mistake coming here, you bastard!” The ships increased speed towards them.</p><p>Miles leaned forward, “Unidentified vessels, this is Lord Auditor Miles Vorkosigan. In the name of the Emperor, I Request and Require you to stand down!”</p><p>“Like hell!”</p><p>Miles nodded in satisfaction, “Before it was just treason, kidnapping a Countess. Now it’s High Treason, threatening the Emperor’s Voice. And I have full authority. Count Vortaxis, deal with them.”</p><p>Maxim was murmuring a string of instructions to Andrianakis. He’d seen what the man could do with a groundcar, and he’d checked his record. He was even better with a flyer. </p><p>Maxim gave a cold smile. They were about to find out why he won that flying medal at the Academy. Luckily he’d kept his skills up. </p><p>As the three attackers swooped in, the two Vortaxis vessels spun away from each other, splitting the pursuers. One of them stayed with Andrianakis, two with Maxim. “Andrianakis, fly that bastard into the ground.”</p><p>“My pleasure, my lord.”</p><p>Maxim spun again, taking his pursuers by surprise. He flew close over the top of one, flipped around and headed back, playing an almost terminal game of chicken with the other one. His passengers sat silent, apparently not even worried - these men weren’t strangers to tight moments. Miles murmured, “It’s such a shame we don’t mount laser cannons on personal vessels.”</p><p>Mark glanced over at him, “If we had one, so would they.”</p><p>“Yes, there is that.”</p><p>Maxim caught a glimpse of Andrianakis, leading the other vessel up and away, but he was too busy with his own to watch any further. He kept on leading them on and then spinning away, always to the left, as he evaded the other two. He jinked, twitching the small flyer up above, then around, even flipping it over as he rolled out of their way. Then to the left again, spinning past the second attacker. The first one sliced down at him; another spin to the left and he was clear, but then the other one came at him again. His apparently random and panicked movements kept on, the other two pilots were totally focussed on this irritating vessel that kept on dancing just out of reach. Left again, then left, until he finally had the two ships lined up just the way he wanted, then as they closed in victoriously to force him down he spun away – to the right. Taken by surprise the two vessels were a fraction too slow to adjust their courses. Their instinctive efforts to avoid him meant that they turned towards each other at the wrong moment…</p><p>The collision was spectacular. </p><p>Fiery shards rained down as the sound still echoed around them. </p><p>It was followed a moment later by an eruption of flames and fire from the ground, as the third ship failed to outfly Andrianakis. </p><p>“This is MY District, you bastards. Now, where’s that town?”</p><p>The two flyers took up a new heading, with Three and Four, who’d now caught up, close behind them.  Maxim called up his small fleet, “Five, when you reach the crash site check the three downed flyers. Then retrieve Barlow’s body, with all respect, and any evidence from the Vortaxis flyer. Then return to Glamis.”</p><p>As they closed in on the town he ordered Four to fall back and circle around, “They’re expecting three vessels, with any luck nobody is checking the monitors too closely.”</p><p>As they flew towards the town they ran scans; most of the town was low-tech, sending out few signals of any kind. But the huge buildings and storage sheds around the refinery were hot, signals blazing from a variety of comms, shields, and various energy weapons. “We’ll come in like we own the place. There’s a set-down area out back of that building over there, and that’s the one with the most activity. We’ll put down behind those flyers, it’ll shield us from view, a little.”</p><p>Once they were down he quickly organised them into three squads: Maxim kept his own armsmen, the Vorkosigans and Pym with him. His Service friends were split into two teams. They started towards the target.</p><p>“Now we go find my wife.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Just like old times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A bit of a warning on this...some slightly icky moments.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The men fanned out, drifting silently towards the building, a huge black void against the darkening sky. Mark was scanning, “There’s a mass of people in there, scattered about. And weapons.”</p><p>Miles looked over at Maxim, “We should try sneaky first, then if we have to, go for the big bangs.”</p><p>Maxim led them on, “I don’t care as long as we get in there, and get her out.”</p><p>He sent the other two teams to check each side of the building and the surroundings. Maxim’s team found a door that, after a moment’s attention, wasn’t locked any more. He led them inside, along a short corridor with offices and storage rooms, everything dark and empty. </p><p>At the end of the corridor was a larger room, too dark and shadowy to see where it ended. Mark held up the scanner, then muttered, “This is no use in here, there’s too much heavy equipment, it bounces the signal around.”</p><p>“We’ll spread out. Stay under cover as much as you can.”  Maxim slipped into the cavernous space, moving around the dark shapes of large machines. </p><p>Behind him his team followed, carefully and quietly. He wasn’t surprised that the Vorkosigans were more than capable – there was obviously a past there that wasn’t for public knowledge. </p><p>Partway across the space the machines finished. There was only a wide, open way ahead. </p><p>Maxim fell back to the main group and kept his voice low, “We’ll go around each side, I’m not walking across the middle of this. Split up, half each side. Follow at intervals, keep to whatever cover there is. I don’t like this.”</p><p>He moved quietly and slowly, just another shadow slipping around piles of crates, and heaps of girders and other metal, all just darker shapes. There was no sound, his men knew what to do. Down at the other end of the huge space he could see more machinery, and what looked like stairs up to the catwalk above. There might be offices up there, she could be – </p><p>The lights blazed on. “Drop your weapons!”</p><p>Maxim spun around – to see hostiles coming out from everywhere, from behind the machinery and the crates. Their leader had grabbed the last man in line, he was holding a neural disruptor to Mark Vorkosigan’s throat. Two others stood beside him, their weapons aimed at Miles and Maxim.  </p><p>There were a dozen others, weapons held ready on the rest of the team.</p><p>Mark’s weapons clattered to the floor; he stood there small,  empty-handed and helpless. </p><p>Maxim tasted bitter failure. They were so close, but he’d let her down. He snarled, hating them all, “Where is my wife?”</p><p>“You mean Lord Nestor’s wife? She’s with her husband, of course.”</p><p>“DAMN that bastard, and damn you!”</p><p>The man laughed. </p><p>Which proved to be a tactical error. </p><p>Mark smiled slowly, “Have you met my Black Gang?” </p><p>He reached around and –</p><p>None of the men would ever forget what happened after that. Maxim relived it in his nightmares, although he did take notes just in case there was a next time. </p><p>Mark’s first move disabled and disarmed the leader – literally – and then he took down the other two. He moved fast and sure, and was beyond ruthless. </p><p>Everyone else was frozen with shock, and horror, for a moment. Miles recovered first and started firing his stunner at the rest of the gaping kidnappers. Maxim joined in quickly. He left the last man standing, “Where is she?”  The man was shaking too much to speak. </p><p>Maxim stepped forward, grabbed the man and shook him like a dog with a rat, “WHERE IS SHE! Answer, or I’ll give you to him!” He waved towards Mark and the remains surrounding him.</p><p>“Upstairs.” One shaking hand pointed at some metal stairs leading up to a catwalk, with a control room and some offices at each end.</p><p>Maxim tossed the man to Panagiotis for stunning and surged up the stairs. Miles followed, pausing only to murmur, “Evisceration, Mark? Really?”</p><p>At the top of the stairs Maxim paused. The men stilled, straining to hear anything that would tell them where she was. The sounds came faintly – thumps and muffled screams from the offices on the left. Maxim hurtled towards the sound, crashing through the door to see – horror.</p><p>There was blood everywhere. In the centre of it all was Anastasia, her clothes torn, naked to the waist, her wrists lashed together in front of her. She was bruised and bleeding, with a long wound down her side. </p><p>And Nestor was there.</p><p>She had him by the throat. As the rescuers piled into the room, she kept on pounding his head on the table. Blood and teeth flew around as she shook him like a rag doll, and pounded him again. Nestor gave a few more moans and fell silent.</p><p>“D – I – V – O – R – C – E, do you hear me you vile beast?”  Each letter punctuated by another thump on the table. </p><p>“Anastasia.”  Maxim held out his arms. She dropped Nestor, who folded up nervelessly on the floor. </p><p>“Maxim!  Oh thank the gods, I didn’t know how I was going to get out of this place!”  </p><p>Maxim had no interest in anything that happened after that. The Lord Auditor took charge. Medical help was called in. He conferred with his fellow-auditors, and then Georg Vorthys headed for Vorbarr Sultana, while Vann Vorgustafson came down to Vorfolse District to help with the cleanup. </p><p>Maxim wrapped his jacket around his bride, then picked her up and headed for the Lightflyer, “I’m taking her home.”</p><p>“Fine. Leave me the military men, and half a dozen armsmen, for now. I’m calling in as many ImpSec teams as I can get in a hurry. I’ll keep Mark with me, he comes in handy. Send me a report on the Countess’s injuries, and her view of events. And yours. I’ll be seeing you later to get the details.  Countess, I’m glad this is over. Well done with Vorfolse, by the way.”</p><p>Maxim took Gorlov. Letokis had been on Five, so both of Barlow’s fellow armsmen for so many years would be able to stand vigil for him. The rest of his armsmen stayed with the Auditor, working with Pym as his inner team, while the others started mopping up outside and checking for any more hostiles. The armsmen all projected grim satisfaction. Barlow had been avenged, and very promptly. </p><p>Maxim suspected that his Service friends were almost enjoying this, it brought back memories of their early service, before promotion tied most of them to desks, far away from the fun of the front lines.</p><p>Gorlov piloted them smoothly back to Glamis. Maxim held Anastasia, he wasn’t letting her go.  “How badly are you hurt? What did he do to you?”</p><p>“I’m… it’s not bad. I got torn up a bit when the flyer was forced down. Barlow – he was so good, so brave. He nearly outflew them, but there were four of them. And we couldn’t get a message through, there was some kind of jammer, but he set off that explosion to send a pulse signal. We hoped we could hold them off, but…”</p><p>“I know. I saw. He was a brave man, and a good armsman.”</p><p>They clung together, grieving for that strong, quiet, loyal man. </p><p>“And then they dragged me into one of the flyers, and left the other three to wait in case anyone came.”</p><p>“They were waiting for us. They’re ash and debris now.”</p><p>“Good.” She looked fierce with satisfaction. “They took me to that warehouse, or whatever it was. Nestor was there, he  - he really hates you. He’s furious that the ore deal has ended, he says he and his grandfather really need that money. He said he’d had to find new ways to get an income, but that I was going to be worth plenty. I didn’t understand a lot of what he said… and then he tried to – he wanted – he said I had to give him whatever he wanted because he was my husband, and he had rights. And he grabbed at my clothes, and then he tried to kiss me. He seemed to think that because I was half-naked I’d be more scared and helpless. But… I walked the balcony, dammit, and I’m not going to freeze up or beg just because I’ve dropped a few clothes. Not any more. I got hold of his throat when he tried to kiss me, and I bashed his head against the wall a few times, and that slowed him down, and then I just… kept going.”</p><p>“You did fine. Even tied up you’re more than a match for any damn Vorfolse.”</p><p>After that the lightflyer landed at Glamis and the world took over. The armsmen carried Barlow’s body to a side room, to be dealt with, and then they set up a roster to stand guard over him. A brave man who’d stayed true to the last. </p><p>Verity had called in a team of medics, ready for whoever would need them. They cared for Anastasia, cleaning off the blood, dressing her wounds. Maxim stayed at her side. </p><p>Yvgeny and Olga were busy sending messages of reassurance to everyone, and arranging for food for those who could eat. </p><p>Finally Verity chased everyone away, leaving Maxim and Anastasia curled up together. They just wanted to hold each other, and glory in that for a while.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Cleaning up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After you've survived it, you have to get past it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 48 – Cleaning up</p><p>Sometimes it’s best to pretend things are normal, until they are.</p><p>There was a flood of messages from their District, people were outraged that Vorfolse District – never a popular neighbour – had dared to steal their Countess. And word had got out about the way she’d dealt with Nestor – there was pride that their Countess was more than a match for him. Women in the District walked a little taller. </p><p>Maxim met with the mayor, and with his business manager, to receive the condolences and outrage of his people. He managed to get through the meeting. “I’ll need to get around my District and see people properly, but the Emperor has recalled us to Vorbarr Sultana as witnesses in the investigation. I’ll let you know when we’ll be back, it’ll be as soon as all this is settled.”  </p><p>Anastasia forced herself to join him to give the local media an interview to run throughout the District, just to reassure them that the Countess was recovering well, and that they’d both be back when they’d finished with events in the Capital. </p><p>Afterwards they sat in their parlour, with a perfect afternoon tea sent up by Ma Kennerli, doing what she could to help them get past the trauma of it all. </p><p>“Barlow’s funeral…?”  Anastasia was mourning the man who’d been so kind when she was a child.</p><p>“His wife died a few years ago. His daughter is at medical school in Vorbarr Sultana, and his sons are both in the military – one stationed on Sergyar, one on ship duty. The Emperor has recalled them both. The funeral is delayed until they can all be brought down here for it.”</p><p>“It’s so unfair, so wrong that he died that way. Damn them all.”</p><p>“Three days, three damn days.”</p><p> </p><p>Lord Auditor Gustafson was still chewing his way through Vorfolse District. Lord Auditor Vorkosigan had headed back to Vorbarr Sultana chasing a trail. There was no official word yet about the extent of the rot, or the fallout. </p><p>After a few days that passed in a blur, the family, the staff and the armsmen headed back to Vorbarr Sultana. Gorlov and Letokis stayed at Glamis, to stand guard over the brave, honourable man who’d been their fellow armsman for so long.</p><p>Vortaxis House felt like they were safely home, now. They settled in comfortably, and tried to make things normal. Maxim ushered Anastasia into his suite, “I’ve been using these rooms, but you can choose any rooms you like. There’s this whole floor, and more below – whatever you want.”</p><p>“I like these ones, but we’ll need a few more added to the suite. I’ll need a dressing-room, and a wardrobe room, I seem to be accumulating a lot of clothes. And a workroom for my maid, if she has to make quick repairs to a gown – and it’ll need a bed in there, too, in case she gets time for a rest while she’s waiting for me. And a private study. And… well there’s plenty of rooms, we can just spread as we need to.”</p><p>There was one piece of bright news; Sophie had achieved her dreams, she was now a High Vor Lady’s maid; abigail to Countess Vortaxis. </p><p>They settled down to answer messages, unwrap wedding presents, send thank-yous, and pretend everything was going just fine. </p><p>Their friends and family had heard something about what happened – there were some jokes about ways to celebrate a honeymoon from the more irritating cousins, but also a flood of support. There were some visits, but only in small groups, and most people knew to give Maxim and Anastasia some time to recover. </p><p>Olga disappeared into her studio each day, lost for a while to the winds of inspiration. Yvgeny was busy in the Library, with a squad of students and academics, spearheaded by the Professora, who was also guiding him through the process of organising to do his doctorate. Maxim wondered if the Old Count was watching all the activity in his library, or if he’d moved on. There was a temperature-controlled room now, and various display cases, the  shelves were full of carefully – and, now,  correctly – organised volumes, tables were set up with comconsoles for working, even a few comfortable chairs and low tables in one corner for quiet discussions. His food bill was enormous, but Maxim didn’t care – some of those students looked as if they were a bit threadbare; if he gave them a good lunch, plus a few snacks, it’d get them through the day – and he might be helping a future genius. A small investment in the future.</p><p>Verity was holding everything together, working with Madame de Lacey to keep the House running smoothly. She had the armsmen organised to make sure that they let the right people in, and kept the rest of the world out. </p><p>Through the day each of them would find time to be with the children for a while. That brought calm, and comfort, and a better focus on what matters. </p><p>Miles was busy being Lord Auditor Vorkosigan again. He came to Vortaxis House to take their testimony about the recent events. It wasn’t Anastasia’s first FastPenta interrogation, but she still didn’t find it completely comfortable. But she was pleased, even eager, to give her testimony about Barlow’s death, and about Nestor. Apparently he was still recovering from his injuries. She hoped he was suffering the way he deserved.</p><p>After his visit Lady Vorkosigan called on them. Anastasia had chatted with Ekaterin at various balls and receptions, but now she had a chance to get to know her better. Ekaterin didn’t talk about recent events, she just talked about her business, her duties as a hostess and life in Vorbarr Sultana. Anastasia discovered that she was a valuable source of advice, and also a good ally. They started a solid friendship, too. Ekaterin introduced her to Lord Mark’s partner, Kareen – she’d been off-planet for a while, so she’d missed ‘all the fun’ as she called it. She was sweet and lovely, warm and caring – but with a little glimpse of steel underneath. She also had a flock of sisters, and Anastasia soon found herself with a growing social circle of women who knew how to sail through the Vorbarr Sultana social scene.  With her Vorsmythe cousins, Vortaxis relatives, and old friends from work and university, she suddenly had a strong network to draw on – not just for friendship and social events, but for the far more important self-help groups she wanted to build, for young entrepreneurs like Nara. Whatever the profession or business, she now knew someone who knew someone... </p><p>Just as things were settling down, Barlow’s sons arrived on Barrayar. Anastasia and Maxim sent a lightflyer to collect them, and their sister, and fly them all to Glamis. They had a night together, just as a family, to talk, and remember, and grieve, Maxim flew his favourite, fastest lightflyer early the next morning; he and Anastasia took Verity and Yvgeny with them, they were all there in good time for the funeral. All of their surviving armsmen flew down in two larger flyers. They were all in their House Blacks, an impressive and sombre group. The family cemetery was further along the cliffs; a beautiful and peaceful spot. Barlow’s children were joined by all of the armsmen, Anastasia and Maxim, Verity and Yvgeny, most of the staff, a few more distant relatives, and relatives and friends of his from the District. They farewelled Barlow with respect and pride. </p><p>Afterwards there was a quiet High Tea at Glamis, and then they returned to Vorbarr Sultana. Barlow’s daughter was pleased and grateful that the widow’s pension would be hers until she graduated; her brothers were relieved that their sister would be able to get her qualifications. </p><p>“I saw you having a quiet chat with the eldest son,” Anastasia was getting ready for bed as Maxim slid his boots off and then stretched to ease the tension in his shoulders, “What did he want?”</p><p>“He was asking about the armsmen. He still has over ten years to go, but he was hoping that I’d keep him in mind for a place. He said his father found such pride in his work.”</p><p>“Oh yes, that’s a wonderful idea. Will we have a place, though?”</p><p>“In ten years time Gorlov and Letokis will be thinking of retirement. Anyway, spaces come up now and then, for all sorts of reasons. If I don’t have a vacancy for an armsman I’ll find him another job; he can stay with that or do it until he gets a chance.”</p><p>“Good plan.”</p><p>Once the funeral was over, Anastasia threw her energies into helping Maxim get the shops in Vortaxis Centre ready for a grand opening, he’d been juggling providers and transport, staff and preparations, in a fearsome rush. </p><p>The stores were being allocated; a bonded store selling whisky, ouzo and retsina, and some of the strong red District wines and finer whites; a small bar specialising in District wines and spirits; a large specialist grocer’s selling foodstuffs like tablet, shortbread, olives, feta, baklava, and more; a café with District specialities to encourage people to try some of the tasty treats for sale in the food shop; a notions store selling lacework and other fine sewing and embroidery; jewellery, in traditional designs; wool, knitwear and finely woven woollen fabrics, including some impressive and newly-popular tartans; a display centre for products like the oval lift tubes and transparent roof tiles; and a booking centre for District holiday resorts and information on other District activities, including taking applications for the new university.  </p><p>Goods were being delivered every day, and the whole place was bustling with excitement and energy. The colour scheme in all the shops of cream highlighted with Forest Green and silver, gave an air of class to the whole place. </p><p>Maxim had put the word out; there were quite a few people from Vortaxis District who were living in Vorbarr Sultana: some had a partner in the Service who was posted there, some were ex-Servicemen waiting for treatment at ImpMil, some were students, some had just come to seek their fortune. Maxim staffed all his stores in Vortaxis Centre with people from his District. It made the stores more genuine, and it also gave a boost to his people. Vortaxis District was finding its pride again, in their supportive Count, their heroic Countess, and themselves. </p><p>Miraculously, some scientists who were able, keen, good at communicating, and energetic enough to start a whole new university department, suddenly appeared. It was possible that an Imperial finger had stirred things up, encouraging people who knew people who knew more people to take an interest. Maxim was going to get the beginnings of his university, and have it up and running, at least partly, by the end of summer. <br/>They had a lot of enquiries from ex-Servicemen, wanting more qualifications. And they were subsidised by the government, which paid up front – a real boost. There was also a trickle of enrolments from their own District, and those around it – not so many from Vorfolse, but Maxim was trying to discourage any kind of feud starting; they had to live beside that District, and whatever happened, the ordinary people weren’t to blame. </p><p>There were reports that the marine biologists were already starting surveys and some catch-and-tag programs. They also wanted to set up some tanks in a sheltered area at the back of the cove – the opening of a large cave complex. They were going to breed…something. Maxim had nightmares about the Loch Ness Monster for several nights – he had to forbid Yvgeny from doing any more research on their heritage for a while. </p><p>The engineers were totally organised and prepared. He had a feeling that Brezhny was loving every minute of the organisation.  The Vice-Chancellor was also totally prepared, with everything ready to go as soon as lectures started. In fact, they already had the café up and running, there were so many staff and students helping with the setup. Anastasia had also picked up on a bit of a trend, a few stray hints and mentions, in the messages they received from the budding university: it was just possible that the Vice-Chancellor and now-Professor Brezhny were a little more than just work colleagues. She was pleased to see that life, and love, were happening down at Glamis.</p><p>Maxim had allocated some special funds: each year the Barlow scholarship was going to be given to a promising student, in memory of a brave man.  </p><p>“What’s next with the university?” Anastasia was looking over the plans for their first three departments. </p><p>“Well, I was hoping we could start an Agriculture department.  And then Business and Accountancy – you’re going to help recruit for that one. After that… Maths maybe? Or History and  maybe Literature for Yvgeny, and Fine Arts for Mother. Philosophy has been suggested. We’ll just let it grow, as we find the right people. There’s no rush right now, we’ll sit with what we have until it’s going well. As it grows we’ll extend along the cliff, we’ll use the site of the old Vorkalinopoulos castle.”</p><p>The foundries were running, close to full capacity, the factories were gearing up to start manufacture of lift tubes and roof tiles. Bookings for the resorts were better than ever. The university was bringing jobs and money, and opportunities. His District was starting to feel the difference, and people were praising their new Count for all the improvements he’d brought them and those that were to come.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking,” Anastasia sat close to Maxim at the breakfast table, pretending to eat, “You own some of the farmland in the District, yes?”</p><p>“Yes, unfortunately. From farms that have failed, mostly in the northern sectors. I haven’t got to that yet. The soil is too poor to support much agriculture.”</p><p>“Well, we have the advantage of a high-speed monorail link to Vorbarr Sultana. So I was wondering – how about setting up a few useful cash crops? If it works for you then other farmers might follow your lead. We could offer low-interest loans for them to change over to new, more successful crops.”</p><p>“The soil isn’t good enough, I’ve been trying to find something that would grow there.”</p><p>“You don’t need soil. Set up huge greenhouses. Raised beds with good soil from other regions, or better yet hydroponics. Start with flowers – there’s always a market for flowers, and we could have them in the city within hours of picking.”</p><p>“Flowers… I suppose that would work, yes.”</p><p>“And then some specialty foods – certain fruits, berries, things like that. And vegetables. There’s some old-style vegetables growing in the District, we could propagate them and use greenhouses for them too.”</p><p>“I’m liking this. We’ll have to find someone to manage it all.”</p><p>“Pavlides will find someone. Several someones. If it’s successful for our farms, the others there might get some ideas. Your new science institute might even be able to experiment with different types of vegetables, or growing medium, to see what will work the best. It’s worth a try, anyway.”</p><p>Maxim nodded, chasing the new idea, “And maybe in time we could look into vat meat, too. We could set up some fine large factories – we have space to spare, there. Easy delivery to Vorbarr Sultana – bless that monorail. Another possible income stream for the locals, too, if they can get over the horror of fake meat. We may even be able to entice them to cook it in various ways. Packaged meals? More jobs, and money.”</p><p>Anastasia laughed, “They don’t have to eat it, just grow it, cook it and sell it.”</p><p>It was a turning point for Anastasia. Maxim had never realised the curative powers of vegetables. Sourcing all the plants, finding the right people and equipment, planning the greenhouses – it gave her a focus. But Maxim and Anastasia stayed close to each other as much as possible, both of them needing the reassurance.  </p><p>They had a few one-line updates about the investigation from Lord Vorkosigan, but otherwise things seemed quiet, on the surface at least.  Then two weeks after getting back they were called to the Residence, for a meeting with the Emperor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Results</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All loose ends, hopefully, are now tied in a neat bow.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Back at the Residence Anastasia looked around at the familiar faces, walked the corridors she knew so well, and thought about all that had changed in her life. </p><p>Lord Auditor Vorkosigan was there, official chain and all, as were Lords Auditor Vorthys and Vorgustafson. General Allegre was present as well. Also Count Vorsmythe, Count Vorvolk, and Count Vorhalas. Laisa joined them as Maxim and Anastasia arrived. </p><p>Gregor was at his most sombre, “Thank you all for coming. Some of you know part of this, but – for reasons that will become clear – it’s important that you all know what has happened so far, and what has to happen next.”</p><p>Lord Auditor Vorkosigan cleared his throat, for drama, and began his report, “After the kidnapping and rescue of Countess Vortaxis we started with an investigation of Lord Nestor Vorfolse. He is still recovering from injuries he sustained… er … during the event, but we were able to question him. One part of this story starts with the wedding – the child wedding twenty years ago.”  </p><p>He ignored Anastasia’s huff of outrage.</p><p>“Her dowry was a deal; Vortaxis ore at very low prices, with the guarantee of no refining within Vortaxis District, so that Vorfolse District had a free rein. There was some serious quid pro quo; a trade dispute settled in Vortaxis favour, and a few quite large adjustments to the District boundary benefiting Ludo, including a border twitched to put a certain mine into Vortaxis District. Vorfolse goods were also sold to Ludo at a huge discount – that went on for years. At the time both men were very pleased with their deal. The marriage was their way of keeping the two families joined together. We move forward twenty years, and things have changed.”</p><p>He paused for dramatic effect. Anastasia decided that the stage had lost a great talent when the auditor chose a military life instead. </p><p>“After Lord Vortaxis and two of his sons were lost, Count Vortaxis focussed his hopes and his energy on his surviving grandson. He was less interested in deals with Vorfolse District by then, so he didn’t bother keeping control of his granddaughter.” </p><p>Anastasia shivered. The Auditor hurried on, “Meanwhile Count Vorfolse had withdrawn from the life of his District, but depended on it financially. His son and named Heir, Lord Vorfolse, was doing his best to run the District despite his father’s demands. Their northern sector, with the refineries, was to be run by Lord Nestor, with his grandfather’s encouragement, and the profits were split between the two of them. This was supposed to be training for the young lord so that he’d be ready to run a whole District when his time came. But the timer was counting down, the twenty years were almost up – and now Count Ludo wasn’t keen on renewing on the same terms. All he cared about by then was piling up more money to gloat over, so there wasn’t much they could offer to get a new deal. They started researching alternate sources of income.”</p><p>Those who already knew the rest of the story looked grave, or angry.</p><p>“I’ll leave that for a moment. Meanwhile, due to the treason trial, Count Vorfolse realised that Anastasia was back in Vorbarr Sultana – the last he heard of her, she was at university on Komarr and out of his reach. He and Nestor thought she might be a useful bargaining chip, so Nestor came up to the city to try to contact her. Unfortunately, she was at the Residence by then, and only left it rarely, with an armsman in attendance. He tried to make contact at a few events at the Residence, without much success. The ball at Vortaxis House was another attempt to get close to her. You know how that ended.  Ludo was dead, and the new Count was talking about making new deals with other partners for the ore, and even starting up the Vortaxis refineries again.”</p><p>Maxim nodded, “I was making plans, and talking about them, but I didn’t think it would lead to any of this. Vorfolse tried to make demands about the ore, but I told him I could get a better price somewhere else as soon as the contract ran out.”</p><p>“Nestor’s move against the Countess was well planned; he had already planted one of his men – formerly from Vortaxis District and the nephew of the Countess’s old in-District nurse – in their municipal guard as a conduit for inside information about Vortaxis District.  We’ve found a few other agents of his, too. They became even more important to him now that there was a new Count, and then a new Countess. He was able to monitor events at Glamis and set up the false message.”</p><p>Anastasia held tightly to Maxim’s hand.</p><p>“He was somewhat obsessed with making both of them pay for all the trouble they’d caused him. They were worried about the refineries, it was competition that would seriously impact their income, especially when they no longer had cheap ore. The kidnapping was meant to leave no clues, but we..” the auditor preened just a little, “…were able to move much faster than he expected thanks to the act of a brave man. Lord Nestor is being charged with High Treason, for threatening an Auditor, along with all his other crimes. He’d given his men orders to shoot down any vessel, no matter who was in it. He knew there were auditors at Glamis for the wedding, and he admitted under questioning that he thought it was likely that at least one of them would go out with any team that was investigating the pulse signal. And then they called him as the dogfight started, to confirm his orders, and they told him that there was an Auditor aboard. He told them to take all vessels down. That’s clear intent.”</p><p>Maxim frowned, “Did Count Vorfolse know any of this?”</p><p>“Not about that, no.”</p><p>“But there’s more.”</p><p>“Yes. Lord Nestor found a new income stream. He’d linked up with some businessmen. From Jackson’s Whole.”</p><p>“Oh gods,”  Anastasia whispered.</p><p>“Yes. It all comes back to them. They told Nestor that the law changes they were anticipating would allow easier trade. But some of them set up a deal with Nestor, a few preliminary test runs while they waited for one of their comrades to ensure that the changes to the law went through smoothly.”</p><p>“So what was Nestor doing?”</p><p>“He offered jobs in the city. He offered some young women – girls – in his District the chance to work for his grandfather, their Count, in glittering, exciting, Vorbarr Sultana.  He targeted young women from outlying villages, who had few other options. Many of them were barely literate. Two months ago he took six girls, aged fourteen to sixteen, to work for his grandfather. They were transported to the city and stayed in an empty apartment in Vorfolse House.”</p><p>“And then…?”</p><p>“And then they were gone. A month later he sent six more, from a different region. They also vanished. And just a few days before he kidnapped you, Countess, he sent six more.”</p><p>The room was silent, and chill.</p><p>“The last six were recovered from Komarr station, their ship – a slow, innocent-looking cargo vessel - had just jumped through the wormhole. The previous six had passed through Empire space, but fortunately, due to delays, they hadn’t reached Jackson’s Whole. Admiral Jole sent out a cruiser that retrieved them in time. One good thing about stopping a Jacksonian vessel; you don’t have an outraged planetary government to deal with. All of those girls are on their way back to Barrayar, and are unharmed.”</p><p>“And the first six?”</p><p>“It was a minor House that Nestor dealt with. Most Jacksonian Houses specialise.”</p><p>“And they specialise in…?”</p><p>“Brothels.”</p><p>Everyone in the room looked sick, and angry. </p><p>Anastasia spoke slowly, “He said I was worth a lot of money to him. I thought he mean ransom. But he couldn’t ransom me, could he – I’d seen his face, I knew he was responsible. He wasn’t going to ransom me, he was going to …. to sell me on, to his business partners. He was going to keep me for a while, to – to have fun with me – and then I was going to be in the next cargo.”</p><p>Miles spoke, to distract them from even more sickening thoughts, “A mercenary fleet was contracted for the retrieval of the Barrayaran subjects. Their admiral… she holds strong views on the treatment of females. The House had a large, central establishment that also contained the home of the family running everything, and three other smaller outlets. Our girls were scattered through all four locations.  The fleet’s assault teams hit all of them simultaneously. All six of our girls were rescued, and they freed all the other workers as well – almost all of them were slave labour; kidnapped, bought and sold. Men and women, old and young, and very young – the brothels catered to all tastes. Most of the freed workers will be returned to their home planets or wherever else they want to go, when they’re ready. Some have chosen to stay with the fleet that rescued them. Many are too traumatised to go to their homes right away; the fleet is taking them to Beta for therapy and treatment. The Barrayaran girls are being brought home, and We have employed a therapist to travel with them. The four establishments no longer exist in any form beyond rubble.” </p><p>Elli had been vicious in her extermination, once she’d seen the survivors they were rescuing, and the ages, and the injuries. She’d exceeded her orders in Milesian measure. No adult member of the House had survived. The few children had been given to trusted allies on the Whole, to raise in safety. </p><p>Fortunately she’d scooped up a few trauma therapists as the fleet went past Beta on the way to the Whole. One of them was now on the ship bringing the Barrayaran girls home, the others had stayed with the bulk of the survivors, for the trip back to Beta. Before the total annihilation of the buildings  her teams had cleared out every safe and strong room, and acquired the codes to empty all accounts, with ruthless efficiency. By the time the Fleet left Jacksonian space they had a full load of rescued and traumatised survivors, plus enough wealth from that now-defunct House to cover all the therapy costs, and set up trust funds for each victim, to access when they were ready. They’d get enough for ongoing support, training, or a shop or farm, a dowry, a house – whatever they chose. And it would be their choice, they’d lost that power for too long. Plus there was a very nice fat profit for the Dendarii, too. It wasn’t a charity, after all. </p><p>Maxim spoke slowly, “So those poor girls, that’s against Nestor too.”</p><p>The Emperor nodded, “Yes, kidnapping and enslaving Our subjects is illegal, and as he’s Vor it’s also treason. The fact that they’re from his own District, and were so brutally betrayed by someone in a position of trust… that just adds to the list.”</p><p>“How much did Count Vorfolse know about that?”</p><p>“He wasn’t officially part of the deal. But he knew that girls from his District were being brought to the capital, and then disappearing. He knew his grandson was making money out of it. He deliberately asked no questions. As District Count it was his job, his responsibility, to protect his people – and he stood by and did nothing.” Gregor was expressionless, but they could all hear the rage in his voice.  Every Count shared that anger – this was the core of their values.</p><p>General Allegre spoke up, “We’ve found no evidence that Lord Vorfolse was connected with any of this. His son had personal charge of the northern sector, which isn’t unusual; quite a few Counts like to give their heir a chance to learn on a smaller scale. Lord Vorfolse has been fighting hard for a long time to get the District solvent, and stable, despite all that his father and son could do to exploit it. This has hit him hard.”</p><p>Gregor looked around sombrely, “At the next Council meeting, Count Vorfolse will be abdicating his position in favour of his son. He can continue to use the courtesy title of Lord if he wishes, but he will have no official or legal status in his District, or any access to the Council of Counts. He is already living a rather withdrawn life in the capital, and he can continue to do so. He won’t be welcome in his former District. There will be no treason trial for Lord Nestor: legally his greatest offence was against an Imperial Auditor, so he stands convicted of the worst act by Imperial edict. His lesser crimes, although vile, don’t require more. He can only be executed once.” </p><p>Miles nodded, “And he barely survived Countess Vortaxis. His future wouldn’t be comfortable, or pleasant, anyway.”  He seemed to believe that he’d given her a compliment. Anastasia tried to look proud of what she’d done.</p><p>Gregor went on, “Lord Vorfolse will be accepted as Count at the next Council meeting, he’s already the named Heir so there’s no difficulty in that. He has another son, who seems to be a hardworking and intelligent young man – he’s currently a business studies teacher in Vorgarov District. He will be named Heir.”  All the Counts present nodded in agreement. And between them they could bring the rest of the Council into line without fuss.</p><p>Lord Auditor Gustafson frowned, “But that’s not the whole story. I’m still examining some of the business dealings of certain Jacksonian businessmen, although lately most of them have quietly left Barrayar. There seemed to have been a consortium of a few Houses who intended to move in and run things to their own, profitable, satisfaction. The plot to kidnap the Imperial children would ensure that the laws freeing up trade were passed, and the…lethal aftermath… of that would keep the security services occupied.”</p><p>Laisa tried to bite back an almost-silent whimper. </p><p>Gustafson went on, “But everything that happened here, believe it or not, was a side issue. There were some apparently unimportant riders to the bill that would actually impact on Komarr. We do tend to see Barrayar as the focus of this sort of plot, especially the way they set it up, but for them anything that they got out of this planet was just a bonus, small side hustles by various Houses and individuals in the consortium while they waited for the big payoff. The real money was going to be made on Komarr, and by the time the chaos and security issues were sorted out here, it would be too late. Fortunately the bill didn’t pass, and then the rest of their plans fell apart.”</p><p>Allegre nodded, “Our people on Komarr are investigating, loudly and energetically. A number of Jacksonian business identities have been overcome by homesickness and left the planet. The top families on Komarr have been extremely helpful, when they realised what nearly happened.”</p><p>Miles spoke up, “Yes, we know that voting shares are bought and sold on Komarr, quite legally. And they allow companies the legal status to own blocks of shares. The Jacksonians had set up some shell companies, and as soon as the bill was passed those companies would gain ownership of certain others… it was a complex setup but the final goal was to control the companies that control the port, and the commercial space platforms around the wormholes.”</p><p>Anastasia whispered, “It wasn’t for trade. It was for control. This was an invasion.”</p><p>Laisa smiled, “I told you she’d get it. Yes, this was all about getting control of Komarr and the wormholes.”</p><p>“And everything on Barrayar was just distraction.”</p><p>Gregor nodded sombrely, “Yes, they were going to kill Our children to cause turmoil, a huge distraction for the security services. So that We weren’t watching Komarr too closely until it was too late.”</p><p>Allegre took up the story, “Lords Nestor and Dimitry had a loose friendship because of the previous relationship of their grandfathers. Dimitry introduced Nestor to his offworld friends, which is how Nestor had the contacts to sell young women offworld.”</p><p>Anastasia sighed, “Dimitry was never going to make a fortune out of this, was he.”</p><p>“No. In fact, if the plans went well for the Jacksonians, Dimitry was not going to survive. The Jacksonian agents had been here and on Komarr for some time, making contacts and doing their research. They found Dimitry, and he was perfect for their plan. He brought Nestor in, and so the scene was set.”</p><p>Miles chimed in again, “If events had gone to plan, then after the kidnapping and the loss of the children,” Laisa shuddered again, “The evidence would be sanitised, removing all mention of Jacksonian involvement. We would have been presented with a conspiracy between two greedy young Vor lords, who wanted to pressure the government to pass a law that would make it easier for them to exploit, and export, young women. One of them was going to be found dead, apparently killed by the other one in a dispute over money, and the presumed killer would die in a lightflyer crash as he fled to his District. We’d have our evidence, we’d know who to blame, and nobody left to FastPenta.”</p><p>“But…” Anastasia looked over at Laisa, “That law was never going to be passed, was it.”</p><p>Gregor was very blank now, “No. We couldn’t allow Ourselves to be blackmailed like that. But they had a deeper plan. The agents on Barrayar itself were planted here, and tasked with, getting that law passed to give them an advantage in trade. And that was all they knew, the ones we detained were FastPenta’d thoroughly. Even the agent who ran the kidnapping scheme didn’t know more than that. They didn’t realise that they were expendable; whether their kidnap plot succeeded or not, they were meant to be a distraction, plunging Barrayar into chaos, and focussing ImpSec attention here. But…”</p><p>He looked at Laisa, who carried the tale forward, “… but when we really looked at that bill, and then started to put it together with the number of new shell companies on Beta, and a few other hints, we realised – ”</p><p>“You realised…”</p><p>“…that there was something much bigger going on. All of the agents on Barrayar knew nothing about the real action, on Komarr. So even if the bill didn’t pass, the confusion after – after losing the children - would still have allowed them to make a move on Komarr, even though it would have been more difficult. At the least it would have been a time of confusion and financial disaster. It might have been too late to stop them gaining power over Komarr. It would then take years, and litigation, appeals, bribes and alliances; it would have been disastrous.”</p><p>Miles took over again, “Even after the failure of the kidnap plot, they might have tried to use Nestor and start again, but that didn’t happen for them either. And now we will be alert to the problem. There will be some adjustments made to the laws and regulations on Komarr; for once the ruling families are all in agreement with us.”  He nodded to Anastasia, “The single most important step in all of this was when you saved the children. That stopped the turmoil, and it led us to uncover their plots here very quickly. They tried to scramble to use Nestor and keep going, but there was really no chance for them.”</p><p>Laisa looked over at Anastasia, “You were dragged into it at the beginning, and then again at the end. You saved the children, and most of the plot fell apart before it had a chance to spread the chaos they wanted. You saved, the children, and Komarr, and the Empire.”</p><p>There was a moment’s silence as they all nodded at Anastasia, approvingly. “I.. I was just… Vor. It was my duty. But is it ended? Is there more or are they finished now?”</p><p>Gregor nodded, happier now, “It’s over. Any Jacksonians who remain are being monitored,” He nodded to Allegre, “But most of them have left, and the rest are feeling unwelcome. We intercepted one of the lead agents as she left Komarr, and we now have enough information to stop this sort of plan entirely. Their companies are under investigation. They will need to pass certain tests before they’re permitted to be considered for trade here again.”</p><p>Anastasia sighed, “I feel… grubby. It’s all so miserable – all those people suffering, dying, good people like Barlow, and it was all just a scheme to make money. And the ones who planned it all just get to go home.”</p><p>“Not quite,” murmured Lord Vorkosigan, “That mercenary fleet will be having a chat with some of them, and their Houses. They’ve just seen what happens to a House that abuses Barrayar, and its subjects. And there won’t be any allies to help them; the victims who were saved came from all over the Nexus. All the other powers will be cheering us on.  At the very least there’ll be reparations – and money is the thing they care about the most. We’ll squeeze them till they squeal. Barrayar will teach them, and any others with similar ideas, just what they risk if they move against us.”</p><p>Miles smiled at the thought of all the fun that Elli was going to have. She’d certainly shake them until she’d scooped up their last Betan dollar. </p><p>Gregor went on, “The money will be used to repay Barrayar for the disruptions they have caused Us and as reparations for those who suffered because of their plans – the families of Our murdered armsmen and the nursery maid will be included. Your armsman’s family, too.”  He nodded to Maxim and Anastasia. “And, Countess, you yourself – you’ve suffered at the beginning and at the end, and been through several attacks, and much trauma. We thank you, the Empire owes you a great deal. You will be repaid, and rewarded.”</p><p>“Thank you. But I have the resources and help that I need. Any  payment to me … I’ll use it to fund a therapy centre in the District. We need something like that for the people who don’t have the resources to get help for themselves.”</p><p>Laisa touched a call button, and armsmen appeared with tea and coffee, a welcome break for all of them. Conversation was subdued, but everyone felt the same satisfaction that Barrayar had weathered another attack, and would emerge even stronger.</p>
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<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Going Forward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And so.... the end. I'll miss them!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a quiet breakfast the next morning. Maxim shredded a bread roll, keeping his eyes on the crumbs, “I… I need to go down to the District soon. The next Council of Counts meeting is in three days, we’ll deal with Vorfolse. Then it’ll all really be over, and we can move on. There’s the grand opening of Vortaxis Centre shortly after that, that’s something new and positive. I’ll have to go down to Glamis soon after that. I really need to check on the University, now that I have some scientists.” He reached for his coffee, “Speaking of the University, I’ve been thinking… The Old Count, he’d have loved it. He was very big on science, had his own squad of inventors, he was hoping to build up industry in the District that way but he didn’t get the chance. And he cared for his District; he had few illusions about Ludo, I think. He did his best to protect it all; he set up so many different perpetual trusts and management contracts that we’re still sorting them all out, and Ludo seems to have either ignored them or not even known about them. He did so much damage, but the District could have been even worse, after Ludo, if not for the Old Count.”</p><p>“I often wondered about him, yes. The older staff always talked about him with such affection and respect. I think he’d have been very pleased with all your plans.”</p><p>“Well, here’s another one. I propose we call the university the Count Callum Vortaxis University.”</p><p>“I love it! And the District will too. We can have the official naming ceremony when we go down there.”</p><p>Maxim smiled in satisfaction. “You can cut a ribbon or something one day. And there’s the new factories, and the greenhouses… I’ll have to be there to go over everything. I’ll make it as short a stay as possible.”</p><p>“No.” Anastasia’s voice was firm, “Oh no. You’re not getting out of it that easily. You owe me a honeymoon, my love, and I’m going to have it.”</p><p>“Of course, whatever you want. When I get back from the District, we’ll have a lovely long break. Where do you want to go?”</p><p>“Glamis.”</p><p>“Glamis? But…”</p><p>“It’s our District. It’s our home. We belong there, and they need us. We’ll be spending part of our time there for the rest of our lives. Besides, there’s a lot to do. We have to thank Brezhny and all his men – they were amazing. Oh and did you know that Gregor has written personal recommendations for all of your Service friends who helped with the rescue, to go on their permanent records?  He thinks of everything. But back to us; first, we have things to do here.”</p><p>“Uh, yes?”</p><p>“We each need a secretary. Verity, you’re amazing as a social organiser, and lord knows we’ll still need that, but each of us have so many irons in the fire we’ll need help to keep things going.”</p><p>Maxim released the remains of the bread roll and nodded, “I’m getting a secretary – I have a few possibilities in mind, men I served with, or District men who live in Vorbarr Sultana. I’ll sort it in the next few days – that’ll cover my business dealings. And for the social side… well…. You probably. With backup from Verity.”</p><p>Anastasia passed him a muffin,  “I’ve handed over my ordinary work to someone else, Laisa is letting me go from that. But she’ll call on me now and then for the special investigations, I’m continuing with those, they’re important. Now, I want to start up some special committees – networking opportunities for women in business first, I’ll have to contact Nara, and see about that networking group I promised her. There’s a lot to do for the District too. I’ve been looking around for a secretary, and I’ve found someone who’s very careful and hardworking. Her name’s Martine Vorennier. I met her during my first investigation.”</p><p>“Good. Your secretary, and mine, can live in. We have the room.”</p><p>“Martine is a widow with children, and her mother lives with her to care for them while she’s working. I thought they might have one of the married-staff apartments.”</p><p>“No problem.  Oh, and there’s the opening of Vortaxis Centre. We want to get it up and running. It’s due to open next week.”</p><p>“I thought we could get in touch with that interviewer. We played ball with them… they owe us. A segment on the nightly news, perhaps, about the new Vortaxis Centre? And they also owe us five prime-time advertising spots. We could run ads for the Centre and mention that people can also book there for District holidays. And to apply to the university as well. Every little bit helps.”</p><p>“I suppose you know someone who could make the ads…?”</p><p>“Verity does. They’ve already started on it.”</p><p>“I thought I was fast at getting things organised.”</p><p>“And we’ll need to get the comm sites finalised. The main District site is up, of course, but it’s very oldfashioned. We need to update it, and add links to ordering sites for the lift tubes, and all the rest. Plus a site for the university, with information and enrolment forms. One of your cousins is doing that, isn’t she?”</p><p>“Yes, we’d better call her, invite her for High Tea tomorrow, and see what she’s done. Last time I talked to her she said it was all under control, nearly finished. We want it up and running as soon as.”</p><p>Verity smiled, “It’s like watching a sporting match, with the ball flying back and forth between you two.”</p><p>Maxim laughed, “More like juggling. We don’t want to drop anything. Oh and I’ve had a flood of armsman applications, too. I’ll need to pick the lucky few.”</p><p>“Good. Get the best of the best – that’s what they are. If we get half a dozen now, they’ll be able to fit in with the men we already have. And then the rest in a few months.”</p><p>“Oh, and maybe you could ask Laisa if there’s any more of those courses at the Residence, they hold them now and then for top staff, and ImpSec servers, and I’m sure she’ll let us drop a few men into them.”</p><p>“Good idea. It really has helped the armsmen, and it gave them a lot of confidence, too.”</p><p>“Verity, you can decide if you want to stay here or come down with us. Mother and Yvgeny too.”</p><p>Verity shook her head, “I think Mother wants to work in her studio for a while. And Yvgeny won’t be leaving his beloved library for a few weeks, he and the Professora have their first translation just about ready to publish. I’ll stay here and have some time with the children. We might pop down for a few days, later on, to enjoy the beach.”</p><p>“We might have a few friends to dinner before we go. Verity, could you…?”</p><p>“All the usual suspects, ok. I’ll run the date and the list past you both before I send out the invitations. Just family and a few friends? About fifty or so.”</p><p>Anastasia was still running fast, “Good. So we have maybe a week here to get things started up, organised, and running smoothly, then the big opening at Vortaxis Centre. And then we go down to the District. Mornings can be for work, for making official visits and smiling at people, and checking factories. And I want to see the schools – your Vice-Chancellor did a good job, but they’re very under-resourced. I’ll need to get her views, and then speak to the current Education Co-ordinator. And we – or you, at least – will have to sit in on the local Council meetings. Ludo never bothered, but they’d really love to have you there for a few sessions.”</p><p>“Oh wonderful, they’ll use it to complain about all the things I need to get fixed.”</p><p>“Probably. But it’d be a good way to take the temperature of the District, and to find out what else has to be done, we don’t want to miss anything important. And we can use them to get some of our new plans out to the general population, in a positive way.”</p><p>Maxim made a face, “Politics, ech. And if I have to go to the meetings, you can too. We’ll take turns.”</p><p>“What joy. Well, at least we’ll see and be seen. But then the afternoons – that’s our time. We’ll laze on the beach, or explore bits of Glamis, or learn to play golf. We’ll make happy memories there. Oh, and Gorlov said that, when you have some free time, his grandfather is ready to show you the secret passages and hiding places at Glamis.”</p><p>They were all silent for a moment, awe-struck at the possibilities. </p><p>“I hope that Ludo stashed some money there, as well. That can go towards setting up the university.  Oh, speaking of Ludo’s hidden hoard, some of it was jewellery. I’ve had it all cleaned and repaired as needed, and you can wear any of it that you like.”</p><p>Anastasia was lost in memory for a moment, “I remember my mother wearing some of it, for special days. I’d like to see it again.”</p><p>Maxim frowned, “And I still don’t have a dog. I want a dog. Something manly – I need to balance all these women around me. I want a noble hound, nothing fluffy.”</p><p>“Maxim, my love, I’ll scour the District for the most noble, manly dog available. I’ll get you the dog you deserve.”</p><p>“No, you’ll find some raggedy stray that needs a home, and rescue it. I can see it now, I’ll be looking all Countly and noble, and I’ll have some scruffy, fuzzy little thing running around my ankles.”</p><p>“I’ll only save it if it’s large and noble.”</p><p>“Speaking of large and noble, I had a message from the District Chief Justice.  He’s happy to preside over all the important cases – he’s done it forever, Ludo was no help – but he’d be pleased if I would like to hear a few cases, just to send a message to the District. Well, I’m going to. And so are you.”</p><p>“Do Countesses usually do that?”</p><p>“It’s not common, but some do. Sometimes they did it, in the old days, when the Count was away for months fighting someone. And these days a few of the younger Countesses have taken a turn. Frankly, you wouldn’t want some of the older ones, they’re terrifying. But you’re just as capable as I am. And we have legal advice on hand, anyway, hinting at the best solutions. They mostly refer the cases that are high-profile, or need something outside the usual resolutions. So… we’ll both do some. See and be seen.”</p><p>“I’d like that. Thank you. Oh, and before we go down I want to source the flowers that we’re going to start in the greenhouses. Or at least find out what’s most likely to sell. We’ll have to find the right builders for them, too.”</p><p>“Already done that bit. The factory that’s going to make the roof tiles is starting with our greenhouses – it’s experimental, but apparently they can also make large, thin panels of the stuff as well as roof tiles. We can fabricate a framework for them, that’s underway too, and then we’ll be able to control the amount of light going through, turning it from totally clear to completely sheltered, and all points in between. If it works, it’s another useful item for sale – smaller versions for backyard gardens, larger ones for commercial use. The factory manager is quite excited about it. He’s making some small ones as display units for Vortaxis Centre, we’ll see how they sell.”</p><p>“That’s fantastic! We’ll have to go on with the veggie-hunt down there, too. There’s some older species of some of them that are no longer found anywhere else. We’ll do a line of heritage vegetables. I wonder if we can … er, induce… one of the vid-screen cooking shows to feature our heritage vegetables? Verity, who do you know that works in the media? Or we can call that interviewer again, see if her station might be interested.”</p><p>Verity frowned, “You two have been married for less than a fortnight. You shouldn’t be talking about vegetables over the breakfast table.”</p><p>Anastasia laughed, “These vegetables mean money. And we’re happy to talk money any time.”</p><p>“Well, yes, there is that.”</p><p> </p><p>The next day Maxim collected Anastasia and Verity; “I have something to show you both. Come with me, please, my ladies.”</p><p>Maxim herded them into the groundcar, and slipped in beside them, “Kuznetzov, you know where we’re going.”</p><p>The groundcar slid carefully out of the grand entrance to Vortaxis House, then turned left and… turned left again, into the next entrance.</p><p>Verity looked around, “Maxim, there was no gate in that wall before. We’re in the gardens beside the North Wing. Why is there an outside entrance now? But I must say – they’re looking gorgeous, Petros has been hard at work here.”</p><p>“Tante Eloise and Oncle Abelard have been busy too.”  Maxim gestured towards the North Wing. The car followed a paved drive to an open area by the building.</p><p>Anastasia stepped from the groundcar, “There’s a big entrance there now – that’s new. It was just a small side door before.”</p><p>Verity glanced around, “You’re looking very smug. What have you been up to?”</p><p>“Well, Oncle Abelard does building conversions. Vortaxis House is huge – far bigger than we’ll ever need. We do need the apartments around the main entrance, for the married armsmen and staff. We need the main wing opposite that, of course – all the parlours and dining rooms and library, and ballroom, and the rest; with all our meetings and committees and entertaining the place is going to be busy. And we need the South Wing – there’s enough bedrooms, and suites, there for several generations to live comfortably. But this wing…”  He waved at it expansively, “This wing was really surplus to requirements. So Oncle Abelard blocked it off from the main building – there’s no connection at all, now. And it’s been converted. First, he split it down the middle, then on that side,”  He waved to the right, “There’s two large apartments, with two floors each. They have drawing room, dining room, kitchen, study, breakfast parlour and the rest – all the main rooms – on the lower floor of each, and bedrooms above. Perfect for larger families. Then on the left,” another wave, he was becoming quite the salesman, “It’s four apartments, one floor each. Big enough for a married couple, or a couple just starting a family.”</p><p>Anastasia walked towards the door, “I want a guided tour!”</p><p>Verity looked through the large apartment on the right, “Furnished?”</p><p>“We had all the furniture here, it seemed silly to waste it. We just freshened it up and shared it around. Remember cousin Luc, the one who started that home decorating business? He organised the furnishings. Some is new, but most is stuff we already had, recycled and restored.”</p><p>“The cellars?”</p><p>“The lower levels are for parking – there’s plenty of room for guests as well as residents. The upper cellar is for other facilities: there’s a full laundry, storage rooms for each apartment, a common room for servants and visitors’ drivers, a gymnasium, and a small workshop for anyone to use. Plus an apartment for the building manager. That will be a retired sergeant, a good man, injured on duty. He has a wife and some young-teen children. They’re moving in tomorrow, and are very happy to have such a good place. He’ll keep an eye on things, and can do any minor repairs. His wife and older daughter will clean the public areas like the entrance and the top cellars, and some of the tenants might offer them a job one day a week to clean their apartments, if they don’t have permanent servants. And anyone giving a dinner, or party, who need kitchen help or extra servers might employ them, too – that would all add up to some very useful extra money. The younger ones could wash the groundcars for the tenants. With free accommodation, a wage from me as well as his pension, and all the extra little jobs, they’ll be very comfortable indeed. He’s hoping that all of his children will be able to study for whatever qualifications they want.”</p><p>Anastasia flitted from one apartment to the next, “It’s all set up so well! Good sized rooms for the staff, too.”</p><p>Verity looked around, “Attics?”</p><p>“Two more apartments.”</p><p>Finally they headed out to the gardens. “Oh Maxim, there’s a playground for the children – that’s wonderful!”</p><p>“It’s scaled down a little from next door, but Petrov planned it perfectly – as well as the playground there’s gardens, walking paths, seats to enjoy the flowers or keep an eye on the children, and some al fresco areas for outside dining in summer. There’s little grottos, he tells me they’re important, whatever they are. And a fishpond. It is actually a lovely area, I’m pleased with it. I’m sure the tenants will enjoy it, too.”</p><p>“It’s a great idea, and you should have no trouble finding tenants.”</p><p>“Well, I have a few doctors who are interested, it’s convenient for the hospital. And quite a few of the staff from the university want to look through. I won’t have any trouble finding tenants. But I was wondering… Verity, Orly is due back in a couple of months, and I know he’s in line for a desk at Ops after that, working his way up to the General Staff. So… you’re all welcome to stay in Vortaxis House indefinitely, if you’d like to. But I know Orly, he likes his own place, and you mentioned that you’ll have to find somewhere when he gets back… Would you like one of the larger apartments? I know it’s still horribly close to Vortaxis House, but Vortaxis Apartments are, technically, a totally separate building, with their own entrance and everything. And I might even be persuaded to give you a family discount on the rent.”</p><p>There was hugging. He was braced for that. </p><p>Verity rushed back inside to decide which apartment she wanted. </p><p>Anastasia took her turn for a hug, “That was kind.”</p><p>“She’s been amazing. We’ll still need her help now and then, but once Orly gets home she’ll want more time free. We should have our secretaries trained by then.” </p><p>“This place is going to be so full of people now, and happy ones, too. There was too much cold and dark, before. Oh, and speaking of filling the place with people… I thought, if you wanted to, we might consider… I’d like to use replicators, is that ok with you? Can we start a baby?”</p><p>There was kissing this time. And more hugs. </p><p>“Oh you two, I can’t leave you for a moment.”  Verity was back, pretending to be shocked, but grinning as she spoke.</p><p>“We have news!”  Anastasia laughed, “We’re starting a baby!”</p><p>“Not in front of me, I hope. But… that’s wonderful!”</p><p>Maxim barely made it back to the groundcar in one piece, “Not both of you at once!  Ladies, control yourselves! Let’s get back home, and discuss little Stefan Callum Vortaxis.</p>
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